Dorian Dorey Rhodes: creativity

Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts

All The Best

“Bon Anniversaire, Ma Mère”

An ability to see beyond the pale,
Recognizing hope in the shadows,
Trusting first and foremost in love;
Questioning allows for discovery –
An independent view of the world,
Finding wonder in unlikely nooks,
Taking refuge in discovered beauty;
Aesthetic purpose is proven worthy.

Not simply to be sought but created,
Via means personal and miraculous,
Through more than possible alone;
More than creation from only within –
Not just given but allowed in as well,
Born both of intention and request,
Granted as journey and destination;
Nothing but children can encompass.

The innate art in all that is organic,
Exists as fact as well as fulfillment,
Internal naïveté becomes a choice;
With childlike wonder thus achieved –
The need to be and have a child met,
So an inherent wisdom is imparted,
For beauty infuses all said and seen;
Thus self-doubt may stand idly by.

All hesitance is ever more in check,
Seeking truth rather than reasons,
Knowing order exists despite chaos;
Choosing inspiration over defeat –
All is perceived with a loving heart,
Becoming more complete every day,
Fostering creations formed and found;
Artistry that goes beyond the page.

© Dorian Dorey Rhodes 24 January 2008

All the best. by Ari Baker

She’s described me as her alter-ego and she’s my inner compass; we’ve never had it easy but we’ve always had each other. Her love is not only unconditional but unwavering, and her acceptance is as complete as it is encouraging. With bravery summoned in shared nooks, and hope conjured from their many books, it was the two of us “against the world” and we’re still at it – finding our truest selves together. Persistent artist; consistent friend; insistent creative; her inherent appreciation of artistry in all its forms keeps me inspired* and forever young:

“It takes time to grow young.”

— Pablo Picasso

“She finds happiness in whatever happiness I meet, she understands what I understand and why I understand it, she prays for me even when I pray for no one but myself, she sees all the beauty I tell her I see and delights in it through my eyes. That is my mother. She would give me the whole world if she could gather it in her arms. That is why she will never have the whole world in her arms; that is why she will always have the whole of my love.”

— Philippos Aristotelous

*This poem even inspired its own offspring, giving birth to a Mother’s Day poem.

The Dorey Constant

I was your little shadow

Before reaching equity with Momma
Or recognizing my soul in Grandma
There was you

What could’ve been treated as tagging along
Used instead as a chance for me to belong
There with you

Anything done had fun to be found within
Nothing was mundane, especially when
There were two

You were my first best friend

Tasks as games, errands became adventures
Logic as puzzles, bedtime stories offered cures
Walks as archaeology, flies were fishing lures

I was your little brown eyes

Leaving me no doubt I was exceptional
While ensuring everyone felt special
That was you

Peacemaker who took everything in stride
Supportive, and confident without pride
That is you

Finding hope with a quiet determination
Knowing letting go may be the solution
That’s me too

You were my universal constant

© Dorian Dorey Rhodes 31 July 2014

The sign outside my grandparents’ mountain home displayed my family name

Being able to say “me too” when it comes to my grandparents reassures me that I’m part and parcel of their living legacy.* Those two simple words keep me connected to them, and specifically remind me that Granddad loved “me too.” That deceptively simple phrase was how he responded to “I love you” when one of his girls called him at work. Although he was clearly just keeping things professional, there was a sense that he felt too deeply to risk getting personal. He warned me any time I cried that, if I continued, he’d join me. Seeing me cry was enough to make him cry, and not saying “love” at the office hinted at the real possibility his voice might crack if he let himself say it. He laid the foundation for the most important lesson Grandma taught me, that our choices also affect those who love us. My Granddad was the first father I ever knew, and the best man I could ever hope to know. He exemplified what it was to be a good man yet not by being a man’s man – veteran, engineer, and mountaineer that he was – but by being unabashedly accepting, caring, and creative. Don Dorey proved that real strength comes from within.

As a tomboy and his namesake, my connection to Granddad was strong. When talking to himself (which the best people do), he called himself Dorey and my nickname was Dori so those private dialogs always seemed to include me. We’d take on challenges together and “Get it right, Dorey” or answer the tough questions like “What’re you doing, Dorey?” Grandma was concerned I’d take it personally when he was frustrated too but I’d seen him sign his name, “GD Dorey,” often enough that it was clear who he meant when he swore to himself: “Goddamn Dorey.” Rather than teach me conceptual lessons of right and wrong, Granddad shared more relatable truths; cussing is a privilege earned with age, lying is only for Liar’s Dice, gambling is reserved for Solitaire, drinking is intended for meals or Sock It To Me Time and, like most things, is more enjoyable in moderation. With him, I learned a deeper appreciation for those around me. While Momma inspired me and Grandma reflected me, Granddad gave me a sense of place. As a Dorey, his Dori, I not only belonged but could share that feeling through the ready acceptance of others he personified. Without him, I’m disconnected from a universe he gave meaning to.

In memory of G[eorge]D[onald] Dorey, my G[od]D[amn] Granddad:
Don Dorey, you are missed and we are better for knowing you.
October 1919 – July 2014

*Dan Fogelberg embodied what it was to be a “living legacy” and the phrase always reminds me of him. (post to come)

Happy Mother’s Day!

From Pooh Corner to poetry
With courage and coffee
Thru Art for art’s sake
She inspirited me

From Upstart Crow to unity
With trust and tea parties
Thru Truth for my sake
She inscribed her love

From Camp Nelson to crazy
With freedom and fantasy
Thru Faith for our sake
She inspires me still

© Dorian Dorey Rhodes 11 May 2008

White Bird Flying by Phyllis Dorey Thiessen aka my mum

“Hold fast to your dreams for, without them,
life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.”
— Langston Hughes

I’m the happy result of an unlikely event, a planned teenage pregnancy. Unhappy with her life, my mum made a bold change; she married at 16 and had me a year later. Momma hadn’t found a better life but she had realized her dream of becoming a mother and her brave pursuit of something more gave us each other, and San Francisco. From that nontraditional beginning, through impromptu poetry readings to her own artistic endeavors, she raised me first and foremost to be creative. That gift is as important to me as her unconditional love and unwavering belief in me. Creativity as an end, not just a means, has enabled me to see possibilities beyond my limitations as a spoonie. Momma not only taught me to dream but to dream creatively.

Our mums bring us into being, guide us as we grow, support us if we’re lucky, and befriend us if we’re ridiculously lucky. I’ve been ludicrously lucky but, then again, I started life as a dream come true – what a legacy!? Momma wonderfully captures our creative journey in her response to this poem,* “We’ve both been through all kinds of crazy since Camp Nelson (playing at the creek!), & Winnie the Pooh curtains, & huggable Eeyores – not to mention coffee & books at the Upstart Crow – but what we found there has brought us through the tough times, & lit up our memories of the good times, & added the magic!!” She’s described me as her alter-ego and she’s my inner compass; my mum and I are more than compatible, we’re complementary.

“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”

— Washington Irving

*Appropriately enough, this poem grew from seeds planted while writing a birthday poem for Momma.

Home Virtual Home

Where does the time go? Three months have gone by since the momentous decision to acquire our own internet again and we did get back online. That’s the good news. The lack of blog activity is the sad news. I’ve published & unpublished, started & abandoned, loved & ignored a number of blogs over the years. This one alone has seen many designs, posts come & go, me come & go, vied with WordPress, and – most recently – broken. Yes, no sooner did I get back online and start working on this poor neglected site then its dashboard presented with a permanent error. Its settings won’t open, Blogger help is essentially nonexistent, and my energy is limited.

So it is that the relaunch of my online presence has been thwarted. Although this is far from its first thwarting, it shall be its last. That’s right. I’m going for the declaration.. “Challenge accepted.” I may not have settings but I have moxy so, by God, I’m going to rebuild my poor spoonie of a site. As Oscar Goldman* would say, “we can rebuild him. We have the technology.” Well, we have enough to fake it anyway and all spoonies fake it til we make it. I’m done keeping my creativity on hold; it’s too fragile: “Creativity is a fragile, delicate flower which must be cautiously cared for and protected from the harsh elements of ‘human weather.’” — Elle Nicolai

Creativity is not a talent. Creativity is a drive.

cartoon by Hugh MacLeod aka gapingvoid

My personal weather is stormy and my circumstances rocky, making crashing common. A safe harbor is what I want. Just as my home-tel is a haven in a shared existence, my virtual world needs a corner of its own. I thrive on, and in, the social spaces yet want someplace to collect what I’m doing there. My creative drive coupled with the desire to share what I’ve already created makes an online home a must. To hell with the lack of settings, I’ve got enough setbacks of my own. (That’s the bad news.) If I can’t fix what’s broken, I’ll work around it; pretty damn appropriate given that’s what it’s like to live with chronic illness/es. My broken blog and spoonie self are going to make do then – emphasis on do.