st r u gg ling artist

                               so   i    decided
i am more than the answer to "what's for dinner?"    
     the unrelenting pile of dishes

     more than the name i changed at the altar,
     and the ways i fail Husband

     more than the boy i nursed 'til i was spent
     and would give my only breath to, more
     than the worry over the
     mishaps that visit children

caught. i feel caught  between
the rock of guilt   and   the hard place of time

as i push push my way through this beautiful life i don't deserve
for a chance to paint the helpless run of words

en route to errands i pop in an audio - Pooh's tales,
then settle back for the story that wants to tell in my head
and catch it on paper when i park the car

i race, i snatch and just the same watch
the minutes fall 
                       through
                                      hungry fingers

i am more than the faith that rose from my dead life
     because we are more than spirit but too, flesh and mind,
     borne of the Living Word that justifies our reply

what does it say of me as Wife and Mother, my grateful honor --

but that i am happiest
     (clap hand over mouth)

when my dreams find their light in the words
that come together, sometimes soldiers
in sharp line or ballerinas
in fluid form?

i realize they are never a burden, a fresh joy each time

i am the song of history and hope
(except the Greatest Women past and present have denied themselves)

i delight through the hard
hard way to get it down    just so
so u can s e e    the art and grace  in the world that thrills me

i know the prince and the pauper are apportioned the same
hours but my time feels rationed

pl e a se, let me finish this thought, but
    -- the but --
                     incommodius conjunction, my dissolution

i am more than the Kitchen i have loved but it needs taming 
Wife and Mother, there i go to 
the unrelenting pile of dishes i am 
more thanApron
I am indebted to my husband, to whom I dedicate this poem, for doing his 
darnedest to leave me to my words.

210 thoughts on “st r u gg ling artist”

  3. This part:
    pl e a se, let me finish this thought, but
    — the but —
    incommodius conjunction, dissolution
    of my right to self

    I teared up. Thank you for expressing the conflicted pain of mothering (the interruption being the hardest part, for me, too).

      2. Well (sorry?) but I am a feminist. But a good, loving mother, too. And I have realized, later than I wished I would have, that often when I lose patience and snap at my boys, it is when I have had some train of thought interrupted so many times that I finally reach the breaking point. There is a way in which that feels almost unbearable.

        But, I bear it. 🙂

  7. To write is to live. To live is to write… I can “feel” your life through your words. Odd– we are commanded to write God’s words onto our hearts… more in person.

  8. Beautifully expressed. The pain and conflict and joy, all encapsulated as a struggle to achieve the hearts desire.
    I love poetry because it can and does bring a message to each of us. I loved it.
    Susan

  9. I think it is very hard to break free of societal definitions of who we are: mom, parent, grandparent, dad, provider, husband, wife, etc. I understand the importance of each of these roles, but I agree with you– we are more. And to deny that is to deny an essential aspect of our personality. People understand “I have to go to work because I have to make a living.” While that doesn’t top being a parent, etc., it is at least given equal credence. “What, you are writing because you like to write or because it fulfills some inner need you have? That’s great, but can you babysit the kids today?” i.e. Your writing is nor as important as babysitting the kids. It is hard to help people understand that our writing is not a secondary hobby to be put aside to do someone else’s chores. –Curt

    1. Oh…Gracie.

      Guess what? Less than an hour after posting, about another half a page spilled out of my head.

      FASCINATING — I discovered I had more to say.

      Reactions like yours are the highest reward of a writer (though I wasn’t going for any reaction. Just shared what was running over.) ThAnk you.

  11. To be both an artist and a parent means to be stuck between the horns of a sickening dilemma. It always feels like we are cheating one side of ourselves while nurturing the other. I think of the way you and your son play music together, as symbolic of one way to get out of such a dilemma. That said, the demands on us as individuals are many and varied, as you point out in the poem. The dishes pile up etc. But, as Carlos Santana famously said, one day he simply woke up and thought to himself I’m too good at playing guitar to simply wash dishes for the rest of my life! I think he has long since proved his point, wouldn’t you say?

    1. You stop my breath sometimes. I am floored – and honored – you have looked at me, at my family, so thoughtfully and deeply; yes, such moments as a family have been amazing. But where you long to keep on in an endeavor only you can mark with your handprints, it is so difficult. And the quote is SOMEthing. The poem was an articulation of the gradual realization that’s hit me these past few months of blogging: I-no-longer-care-to-stand-my-life-away-over-this-sink!

      Warmly,
      Diana

      1. The person who has looked so thoughtfully and deeply at your family, Diana, is you! I have simply read your posts, which have in turn struck a chord (pardon the musical pun) with my own situation, as a writer/musician and parent/primary care giver. And, yes, the creative act, for people like us, consists of constantly reminding ourselves to “hold that thought”, while the maelstrom of daily life churns around us. Still, we wouldn’t wish it any other way, I’m sure you’ll agree! 🙂

      2. On the side margin of my blog you’ll see a link about a composer who can’t read music under LIFE INSPIRATION, Buckle that seatbelt. My boy and I just enjoyed the clip again. It is out of this world. Now, the Wayfarer has kept things rated G here…but when I first saw it, I couldn’t help feel the violin and sax were making love. I ended up watching youtube interviews of Yanni, the dude with the Jesus hair. He holds hours’ worth of his music in his head, and writes with his own notation bc he can’t read notes. He’s been around a few decades.

      3. Interesting that you should mention the word “clue”. I just now read an interesting article about how clue originally meant a ball of thread. In light of this meaning, Ariadne can therefore be seen as having given Theseus a clue (a ball of twine) by way of which he was able to escape the labyrinth. Anyway, I tend to think of myself as writing too much from the head, lost in the maze of my own thoughts/doubts…hmm. 🙂

      4. Actually, I agreed with your self-assessment and have found you a cerebral writer as opposed to an emotional one — but your reaction to the choices I presented seemed suggestive. Interesting, huh? I love the meaning of “clue” you offer and its application to the quandary of the minotaur. WHICH story my boy loves, of course. Just today I told Tennyson he looked just like Theseus in his serious, raw warrior get-up. =)

  12. Obviously your words today resonate with these fellow bloggers! How I, too, have struggled over the years between the tug of my heart for my family’s every whim and the longing for times of creative expression that are so thoroughly, completely and unabashedly. . . me. Each choice we make, let us live it knowing it was our choice. Each boundary we set, let us embrace it as a declaration of independence. And, on the practical side, may we all find a way to either dictate into our smart phones so we don’t lose the thought, or jot a quick note, or have a special hand sign that means no interruptions for 10 more seconds, or live with letting go those rich nuggets sacrificed on the altar of loving our neighbor as ourselves, “C’est la vie.”

    1. Choices.

      As I mentioned in an earlier comment, I found myself running over with another half-page of the poetry soon after clicking publish. I was taken aback that I had more to say on this.

      Maybe it’ll all see light in a Part 2 I didn’t know was there. “Choices” is part of the draft I’ve been toying with.

      Losing those nuggets is very difficult for me. I like the hand sign.

  13. By the way this fits in nicely with today’s WordPress DP Challenge. I suggest you tag it as such and link there, it is the best one I’ve read. Feel free to delete this comment if you like, its an aside.

    1. I’m not sure I’ll do it and THANK you for the kind encouragmt, J. Can you spell out for me how…where to go? I’ve seen them but am not up to speed on the challenges. I’ve let them go over my head — TOO BUSY but to just write on my blog. xxoxoxoxoxo

  14. Beautifully put, I can definitely relate. In fact, the reason I turned from writing prose to poetry is that you can indead hold it in your mind, and tinker with it all day while doing the chores,then write it down when you have time. Great for busy women! Take care

  15. Wow, this is incredibly moving. I too don’t have any kinds yet, but I hope to in the future. There are so many things to fear in life, but one of them for me has definitely been a fear of losing myself or not having time/energy/enthusiasm for my art as a mother. I am so encouraged by you and a few other creative moms I know that it really can be done and that inspiration still comes, even if it’s on a different schedule or in a new way.

  16. Excellent. I have struggled with the “who am I” many times. As long as I am putting God first, I find things go so much more smoothly. Keeping in the Word, and finding that He is in control without me trying to snatch back the problems that I lay at His feet. I am glad that He is in control, or life would be SOOOOO Crazy! thank you for penning. His mercies are new EVERY morning 🙂 Blessings today. Tara

  18. I can’t relate wholly as I’m not a mother yet, but I appreciate the honesty and raw emotions of your poetry 🙂 hope you are doing well!

  19. I am sure that every woman who is a mother that needs and craves to write has heard her voice/heart’s cry in this post… I know that I sure did. Wonderful words you have written!

    Blessings ~ Wendy

  20. Moments, slipping through distracted fingers, between guilty rocks and vibrant life….gorgeous poem, HW. Obviously struck a chord, gave a voice to so many with your prodigious gift. I love how your work is both fierce and elegant, a theme I am just starting to explore in my new dance solo. Which also happens to have motherhood as part of the inspiration, which this poem has helped boost. Thank you for all of this. Xo p.s. A mentor of mine shared the observation with me that on our deathbeds, very few of us wish we had washed more dishes :). Write on!!

    1. You are

      AMAZING.

      I’m getting chills. I am blown away (and find helpful and rewarding) your detailed feedback and it turns out, the finale to the writing series I’ve (still) been grumbling about not being able to touch calls upon ALL artists to think with me. When is the dance solo? When do you perform?

      1. Thank you, and thanks for asking about my solo. Just starting it, er started in June, but have lost focus several times…this constant struggle to balance family and artmaking, GAHHHH! Not sure when it will be performed, but have just re-formed the small dance company I’ve directed to start on a new project, which should help keep my feet to the creative fire. A thought I had after rereading this poem: wouldn’t it be cool to have an outlet/vehicle for all the parents/writers standing at the sink and stove to post their work in one place? Like an invitational or poetry festival, poems of the day from the sinkstanders :)….. What the Sink Wrought….xo

      2. LOL!!! (If you missed it….I slashed at the triple exclamation points..but I couldn’t resist):

        https://aholisticjourney.wordpress.com/2013/07/25/the-writing-process-ii-let-the-cliches-r-i-p-part-2/

        Well, that is quite creative of you, S. I’m tempted to be won over…..except I’m so busy I don’t know that I can do anything with the fun thought. Let me know if you get a clearer picture in your head…..The criteria – based on the honor code – would be it must have been wrought in noise, chaos, and the activity of at least two limbs – if not over the sink?

      3. Oh! I never meant to suggest that you take on the idea! I just figured I would launch it into the universe, perhaps to flesh it out myself or not. If I ever do implement the concept, I will give a shout. Thanks for your energy. Xo p.s. FIERCE– YES!

      4. HA HA oohhh reLIEF. All Ra RA here for you take it and run with (dance with) it ;).

        Fierce: funny (though i love it, that i love it) because in the next segment (yeah, i discovered i had more to say) i spell out that i’m not wanting to roar just bc i’m Woman. all’s i wanna do is

        write.

  21. I am not a mother and never wanted to be, in part because of what you describe here. A brilliant piece of writing that spoke to me of your struggle to be you in the face of so much to do, and so much responsibility. It spoke to me of your great talent as a writer. It spoke to me of your caring heart and your frustration and your appreciation of all you have while at the same time wishing for things to be different. And then discovering that within “what is” a glorious poem arises from the truth of being.
    Blessings
    Alison

    1. Alison, I am grateful for such encouragement and affirmation. Of course as a mother I feel nothing compares to my little boy. It is my high honor to be raising up a human being. It’s just…..it’s just. You know. Since you enjoyed the poem, letting you know I found I had more to say. The sequel is out. Love and all the best to you in your wayfaring, Diana

  23. “…but that i am happiest (clap hand over mouth) when my dreams find their light in the words
    that come together,” is my favorite part. It takes a brave woman to acknowledge that she is not “just” [that’s not my word, there’s no ‘just’ about it, but it’s used commonly] a wife or mother, but also a woman, and even beyond that, a soul whose spirit shines with its own identity and none other’s…

  24. I wish I could share examples from your poem that spoke most to me, I wish I could explain how I relate (2 daughters), I wish I could give you something to feel good about how you’ve moved me, but all I can come up with is this: You moved me to deep tears. Of all we lose when we choose to have children. Of how painfully rich it is.

  25. I’m glad you found some time to create and have a blog to share your creativity with such a lovely audience. It’s sad to think of how many women like you in the past had the same feelings bubbling up inside them with no outlet for them. I’m glad you have found one! Thanks for sharing.

      1. hope you do because some just read a couple of poems then never show up on my blog so I want people I follow to be regular visitors and leave their thoughts so I can further improve my writing skills.
        Yours
        DM

  30. I’ve enjoyed your words, the thoughts shaped around letters and punctuation, the struggle to process the Mom and the me. I’m mom to three sons and each one gave me words…and more words…and still do. Blessings on your creating!

    1. What keen, thoughtful feedback, Laura. I am wowed — and grateful you chose to look, and then see. Love the way you put it. Thanks so much for the follow and the affirmation. Let’s walk together. Blessings indeed. Diana

      1. My pleasure, Diana. It’s nice to meet you! Thanks for the visit and comment.

        Have a wonderful day…
        Clayton

  32. Beautiful and thought provoking poem.. Moms are magicians in every department of their life.. Keep up the good work, very well expressed and well written.
    groetjes, Francina

  33. I just found your blog and am enjoying all your writings. This one especially resonated with me. I am a mother of 3 and have been struggling for years to find the balance of wanting to follow my dreams and fighting the guilt of doing so. Not only the guilt but the time… the interruptions of thought and having to find yourself back into ‘the zone’ is exhausting! Anyway, I really enjoy your posts, they are inspiring to say the least 🙂 Thank you.

    1. Thanks so much for introducing yourself, Jamina. I appreciate your time. Obviously, I completely understand. This poem just spilled out of me (yes, over dishes)! I look fwd to visiting….might be a day or two…you know how it is!! LOL (WAAAAhhhh) Thanks for the follow. Diana

  35. It is the poems that spill out of you and flow from within at times like this, no matter how mundane, that often bring the most creativity. Our minds are constantly whirring, seeing the stories, the words, the message to get ‘out there’ in everything we see and do. Thank you for sharing this very precious moment in the time of your struggle Diana. Beautiful.

      1. Well, I have to think I’ve learnt something in this crazy old life!
        Aww, you are too kind Diana, and thanks so much, you’ve made my day!
        That pic was taken last October by my daughter when I discovered that I didn’t have any headshots to use to accompany an article I submitted to a magazine.
        Shh, don’t tell anyone, but I am old enough to have grown kids at 54 😉

  37. I find I am grateful to not be alone. The only one, standing among those who do not and don’t want to understand. Those who say, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy” Until you finally hear them, the love of my life saying, “Can’t you stop to make dinner?” “What about us?” And in a baser part of me, the honest part ;I cry out, “What about you?” But the words never make sound, they sit held captive in my heart, as I paste a smile on my face and become what they ask of me, a wife and a mother who loves so deeply she stops, but will that she can be only one who seeks to create as her creator created, something from nothing.

    Thank You Diana, for allowing yourself to be, as you are, beautiful, kind, intelligent, mother and wife, artist and beloved by your creator. Thank You, Thank You. For explaining what I could not.

    1. Getting chills. So glad that you not only found this poem but found yourself in it. I absolutely value your insight into how we create in the likeness of our creator. Telltale of how anchored you are in Him. You bring to mind one of my earliest posts, in response to the “life” in solitary confinement. I was observing how it is a living death in there because there is no capacity for this:

      “Not only speech, but also art, allow us to mark our personal identity and broad humanness. I express myself through the writing and my music. Others paint, dance. God is known as the Living Word by which He spoke all things into life. We bear this divine image in the ways we speak our verbal, visual, physical art. In the artistic procreation, we do more than transmit energy, breathe, even learn. We birth something of beauty.”

      I am so moved by the glimpse into your struggle. Thanks for connecting – and following.

      Love, Diana

    1. LOL Jayde and I go back….we both started blogging a few months into 2013. Remember…I pulled her into the year-end slam bam group post with The Talking V and The Eye-Dancers? I haven’t had the TiMe (the point of the poem!) to put out something fresh for her. I am barely able to keep up my own postings on top of all the comments. =) Thank you for the kind feedback. Means a lot coming from a FeMaLe word aficionada.

  39. Thanks so much for sharing this in my post about George Eliot following our conversation about the difficulties of women trying to live a creative life, in the past. But alas, it isn’t that much easier. Some of the pressures are different but…

  40. Sounds like your husband is very supportive of the diverse aspects of a (your) creative life…this post takes me back as my hubby has always been my greatest ‘patron’ and still soldiers on in that role for/with me; even after our precious children have grown up…
    peace

    1. I’ve always freed him up for all his creative enterprises. He wishes he set me up to blog years ago (he’s a tech geek). He loves to read my posts at work, catch them when they come flying in, lean back and say, “THAT’s my wife!” =) Wonderful to know that about your husband, too, Laura.

  42. There are so many things about this poem I love: its groundedness, the way you have made space in phrases like “so u can s e e”, and the invitation to allow what distracts us to draw us deeper into life. Thanks for this!

  43. Oh yes! This was beautiful! Thank you for sending me the link…a true smile and lightness to start my day. So touching and true. Your words about your husband at the end, “the man who leaves you to your words” nailed it and I smiled because I married to one of those, too 🙂

  44. This poem is a grand reminder of the power of poetry.
    It is all “art and grace” and wisdoms from one who
    knows the joy of being more than any label.

    So very much enjoyed!!

  45. Your poetic composition reminds me deeply for women in praise of the sacred, women who before you have written great works of art in poetic form and prose. I sense the Divine Mother in your sentiments and can only say, “Well Done!” Best wishes as your words perpetually will find their way to the page of white. Stay creative, intuitive, and wise. 🙂

    1. John, you don’t know that your encouragement comes at a most welcome moment. My heart is a bit heavy today, and I am grateful for the time you took here. I feel your heart. Thanks.

      HW

      1. This is wonderful as I sense as well you have discovered yet another calling and your voice. Quite admirable and honorable. Pleased to have been of encouragement for you. Thank you for such kind words.

      2. You have numbered yourself among those who visit or stay and have helped make my labor of love in the holistic Journey a transformative experience. Means so much. Thanks again.

  46. […]                     my boy           i am the shade of his sun afraid he will burn, but i am more than the smell of the bosom           he has learned, to grow up and leave and cleave                    to the woman of his heart                             i am the album of regrets and                        and deficiency and forgiving the roots that climb deep down parents' omissions i am the redemption of the years my mother pushed through the choices she didn't have on grit and coffee                  did you know? korean grandmothers don't            have a name but Grandma in korean      and tradition erased their childhood   — no one heard — their cheerful silence was their greatest gift to us i am the epode on the piano         G major 7 in improv and                                   syncopation while i keep time for my family, i am the   sus pension                                   that knows to resolve                            the holistic heave of my jazz               i can S C A T                    i am the cherry blossoms that concede               their soul in season, unabashed          and the ones that could not    hold    on                       their delicate dance down in death                                   dust to dust                                i don't need self-esteem                            i know Whose i am                    but God doesn't have twins and                    He doesn't make machines          we are each His masterpiece          no — no, i don't want to roar          that i am Woman                            i just wish silence —              license — to put to paper my person               who cares what i am        but the earnest page and the memories and dreams that ask not to die i am the apology that i know what i want          and have begun to sing before the cicada's time                           i am the choices i live with             am almost the books i wait                                         wait                                                  to write. Holistic Wayfarer at holisticwayfarer.com […]

  48. Beautiful; entertaining in the sense so many can relate, but more-so I am emotionally invested because of how relative this is…
    Really enjoyed reading! 🙂

  49. This week-end one of my now adult sons and I shared the same gallery space for an exhibition and although our expression of our art is different there is an identifiable harmony between sculpture, portraits, landscapes and abstract photography which was touchingly observed by many viewers. The majority of my earlier sculptures were made in the evenings when my boys had gone to bed. At other times they were worked upon in between peeling potatoes and clearing the ubiquitous dishes. At some point I invented the dish drawer. This is an empty kitchen drawer containing 4 plastic containers which temporarily store dishes and cutlery waiting to be washed. After each meal or snack, dishes are placed in the drawer and table and surfaces can be wiped creating an instantly clear kitchen. I then have time to create and later while preparing the evening meal and waiting for potatoes to boil I clear the drawer while listening to a radio programme or an inspiring online talk. No feeling of frustration about wasted time, instead a moment of meditation. Thankyou for leading me to you blog.

    1. The recognizable impression in both (of) your art is precious. I appreciate the glimpse into how you managed your time wearing many hats and your time reading.

      Blessings,
      HW =)

      Oh, you bring this post to mind, where I call upon artists (and parents) to discuss the luxury of art, if it interests. Your response to the poem was particularly fitting for this other post, actually. And no obligation to view or respond.

      Calling All Artists, Thinkers, Writers, Part 2: The Luxury of Art

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