In Search of Words

Days and Nights In Search of Words

(portions of original draft, written 2002)

I have found in my efforts to write
time passes more quickly when in pursuit of words,
capture even more elusive.

Early rise to catch first movement;
a thought already begun in dreams predawn.
The rush, the passion of the hunt,
some need of the hunter, I’m sure.

Words and time fuse.
Words-abstract and floating,
a moment of hesitation, then stalled,
next to appear on page by limit of hand speed.

How quickly they dodge, get lost, or move on
untrapped, always untamed
to the untrained hunter such as I.

Discipline, more needed I suppose
and time scheduled for just this cause, I am certain.
Still game arrives more spontaneous for me.

Work harder at play?
or Play harder at work?
True Writer, the real one would only know.

Always in thought or pursuit of
the words. Serious, maybe not.

Or, me merely a daydreamer
and words interrupt
trying to find their place in an otherwise perfect fog.

If only my mind could focus
on one story, even one thought.
Then again maybe or maybe not.

For all stories must be told
and nice to know that my mind has full supply.
The gift of a full life; many stories to tell.
The promise-a mind that refuses to unwind
and a heart that beats on in pace as best it can
with my desire.

Guide thy Hand, Mind, and Heart
And may abstract transform to concrete
In this time and the next
‘Tho long ago I lost track of time.

-Janie

Written in some hour between one dawn and starlit dawn of another
but I haven’t a clue the hour and wish not to be exact.

Kin-ship Readers

(A story in honor and memory of my Aunt on her Birthday)

Dear Daisy,
Had every intention sending a note earlier…unexpectedly, my energy was pulled to Aunt Mabel’s medical; a life-death thing. Ended up sharing days leading up to her birthday with her in hospital. Discharged back to her nursing home room Thursday only to be rushed back to hospital the next Monday evening facing emergency surgery. Very poor prognosis; she was told by surgeon if she lived, post surgery long term colon bag likely and 2-6 months on ventilator best case scenario. She had shared with me during one of my visits in the hospital the week before that she was already tired of too many months in a wheelchair unable to walk. Looking back maybe she knew then what was around the next bend. Her spirits were up and she talked about birthdays and good times with her roommate friend at the home. How you remember her is exactly who she was even those final two weeks, and especially the final days.

Mom, Dad, Nancy and I were with her in the ER when they told her the news. I was so proud of my family, her family that night. Mabel amazed me beyond belief. I suppose having to walk through this path once before this year with Uncle Eli (November thru February) gave us all the strength. Mom and Dad especially grew through all this being there every step with Eli and it was so apparent their growth now standing with steadfast love and support/nurturing Mabel and her choice.

This time around Mabel was blessed with excellent doctors and nurses. Mabel listened to every word, every detail medical presented, asked really good questions, then made her choice within five minutes and never wavered. Nancy and I were alone with her about fifteen minutes later in ER and we both agree looking back that the radiating aura surrounding her that we both witnessed; her attitude, words she spoke, confidence, conviction (true to her character as you know), something greater than Mabel and us was around. There was no doubt that this was to be her time.

Nancy and I agree we both sensed Grandpa there with Mabel as she made her decision. Who Mabel sensed or how much support she felt from them or us I can’t tell you. She never said. No need really. That she was supported was all that mattered. Her calmness and serenity told me all I needed to reassure my heart and calm my mind. There were too many signs, too many factors and coincidences that are unexplainable by any other means to not sense this as truth. It was eerie being in my space on my side standing there while time marched on and facts came in as our family There and my family here united hearts to support her.

Minutes after she made her choice her conversation to the two of us seemed “out of place”. To Nancy, “Your glasses are really tiny. Can you see out of them?” Nancy answered and smiled but I could tell she wondered why that question and especially why this time looking at her would Mabel notice such a fine detail when all just moments before had been such a massive life-altering choice.

We all just moved on to small talk, making sure she was as comfortable as possible, taking turns sitting with her, then letting her have some time alone. She wanted us to go home, get some sleep. Sleep wouldn’t come easy that night we all knew that so we huddled together in the waiting area and checked in on her from time to time. Well past midnight Mom and Dad drove home. Nancy stayed the night. I returned home to make sure Levi was taken care of and safe and returned to the hospital first thing that same morning.

Staff kept her surgery options open for the next 24 hours. Mabel was aware that each hour she waited reduced her medial chances of pulling through the surgery. Next morning, same choice. She wanted to get back “home” to her roommate and friend, Edna.

That night I went back down to nursing home to spend a couple hours. She was alone with Edna, Mabel watching TV, clicker by her side. I noticed once again that aura all around her. Given the choice, Edna had decided to stay in their room and face this together with her “best friend”. Memories flooded my mind as I sat in Mabel’s recliner looking at the TV and talking some. On my Dad's side, for all purposes in my life she had served the role of my grandmother, assuming the role at age 16 by raising the five younger children when her mother died. Sitting there with her just being, took me back to all the times when I was little when she’d babysit me and we’d watch together Petticoat Junction and The Jackie Gleason Show.

Thirty minutes into watching the show flashing on the screen I wake up to the fact that Mabel is watching an education-medical channel. I ask her if she’s really watching this show or what. Her response, “I always watch this show.” I say, “But Mabel you just came from a hospital.” Her response, “I love this show. I watch it ‘cause I might learn something.” Blew me away. One to three days from the end of her life and she knows it and she “may learn something.”

Wow!!!! So, need I say we watched how a surrogate mother was carrying a baby and the delivery…and I smiled.


That night I wrote this to remember this night and all the others I had spent with Aunt Mabel:

And so, I opened my eyes to the mysteries unfolding.
Connecting with people and the moment now
Trying to understand where I (we) had been
Recognizing that so much was changing
and had changed.

You moving on.
Me here to remain.
For now.
-Janie



Calling arrangements were made for immediate family that Saturday. Funeral arrangements were made for Sunday at the nursing home so her friends back at “home” could attend.

Mabel had given me a shoebox of odds and ends years back (1977). Such a mixture of odds and ends, mostly papers I had no idea what to do with any of it at the time. When I asked she told me that I’d “know what to do with someday”. I did as I was told and all these years all items have stayed right where she packed them in that shoebox. The morning of her calling hours I received first word…the message came from There. As I was attempting to write a piece for her funeral the next day, I struggled being more drawn to the shoebox.

Three items in that shoebox Grandpa, from There let me know to put in the casket with Mabel. I guess he or she or both of them plan to go fishing in Canada with his Canadian Fishing License dated, May 23, 1964, a Canadian Fishing Guide (1964), and his glasses. I didn’t ask why. I just listened and tried my best to get the message right. (Grandpa died the year, 1964)

Back in June, 2004 I had given her a signed gift copy of Dear Daisy. It had been my gift to her and I wanted it to remain with her. Forever. She and Daisy always had a special bond and the book kept that connection of sharing the farm and life there together each summer. Then the question for calling hours, how to arrange, what page should the book be open to, and where to place the items from Grandpa. Nancy suggested Dear Daisy open to my childhood pictures page. Reading the words I had written on that page about childhood, all seemed fitting for this moment witnessing Mabel’s trust and openness to explore the next.

“Childhood is nothing more than, absolutely nothing less than, the courage to discover for the first time with innocence and openness, the faith and passion to explore the next, and the inner wisdom to sense the value of each moment along the path.”
-Janie


I didn’t realize until I opened the glass case of Grandpa at the casket to place it near my book how the green interior of his case matched the book hardcover exact. Looked really nice. Classy even. Mabel was absolutely by far the most beautiful person I have ever seen laid out. Radiating youth, though her age nearing mid eighties; total peace, and I swear she was smiling, natural, not placed there. As for Grandpa, I don’t know, lost his glasses and needed his old pair to read my book? He and God only know. All I know for sure is I felt I was and had been a part of this story that connected our lives.


“Asleep, awake, by night or day, the friends I seek are seeking me. No wind can drive my baroque astray, nor change the tide of destiny. The stars come nightly to the sky, the tidal wave unto the sea. Nor time, nor space, nor deep nor height, can keep my own away from me.”
John Burroughs


“And I will be with you forever, and ever, until the End, and then forever more.”
-God (as written and interpreted by the child, Janie)

Sow Seed to the Wind

My words, a common voice on a road traveled, a road called life. One voice echoed through a canyon while another wrote a solitary account; a life story written. No more, but absolutely no less. Record my footsteps and release those words to a path; that was my heart mission.

So not knowing where I was on this path, having just a memory of what had been and what I could dream tomorrow to be, all I knew was the feeling of the moment…

Perhaps another author would have…

Reflecting on the seed now planting, the seed planted yet time needed for harvest, and what Rising Sparrow Press would sow…

The final words of Dear Daisy were written still it would take another six months before Rising Sparrow Press would be born, December 22, 2003. Rising Sparrow Press didn’t feel like a small step. That step felt like I was defining myself, bringing Dear Daisy out from the safety of my home and heart for the World to judge. Self-publishing would provide my path to bring forth my words, my message, and to overcome societal limits and prejudices. Creating Rising Sparrow Press to publish Dear Daisy meant recreating myself, searching and walking a pathway totally foreign.

Spring this year would hold meaning. I needed to believe once more in the hope of Spring. Summer would follow Spring and the first days of Summer had always been mine to believe in Sun and Daisy’s return. Publication date was set; June, 2004.

Money sacrificed aside from daily struggles and living needs while writing and collating Dear Daisy, as Spring approached one prematurely warm winter day in February (Ash Wednesday) I drove Dear Daisy to Ohio to the printing press.

Driving, miles stacked against me, I daydreamed each mile of the road to Ohio and each mile of my return home remembering where I had been and dreaming visions of where I was hoping the road would take me.

First miles it was fresh in my mind of the times of reaching out, finding the courage and committing the time and heart to the day-to-day steps required to write Dear Daisy. I knew nothing about writing, still I had written, covered pages with words and my name would appear on the cover as author.

Then establishing Rising Sparrow Press. The fact that I knew nothing of the book printing process save creating margins and legible copy was just the tip of my naivety. The expansive publishing world; rules, system conformities, steps required from this office then the next, of course money all slowed my pace, hiking the mountain with my well-worn sneakers, day by day checking my progress and my supplies. Somehow, my to-do-list became more manageable with hours of reading and studying and perhaps it was my naivety that assisted my willingness to take each next step.

Time was on my side as each step required investment, especially the ISBN registration through Bowker’s and the printing. I knew I wanted to create future writings. I had five books already started, one, a children’s book featuring Levi and this alone I could envision a future series. Seemed reasonable to not limit myself to a package of ten ISBN when I was certain there could reasonably be a number eleven. Nine hundred dollars later and paperwork filed in hand I held proof that Dear Daisy as a book had secure place.

Perhaps any other publisher would have…

Small steps I took with much time between each for sleep and balance practice. My first words I had found and my first steps now would come together. I thought, how true the first time; how true this time. Remembering that once I had mastered first words and first steps to gain mobility, surely with time, patience, and practice I could do it again. Mobility-Stability, just takes courage, time, and tries. My words were already on paper, waiting to be printed and released. Surely, just a step, one step at a time couldn’t be that big a deal.

Each step took patience. Most days I balanced my fear of progress against my fear of being held back by a World demanding conformity. My desire to break from conformity surfaced again and again. The old way, the way of grit and Spirit of writers I admired; self-publishers that came before me. I had read of Mark Twain’s path and envisioned first printing presses that released Ben Franklin’s words. Revolutionary and independent in thought, that appealed to me.

Reliving yet one more time, a death, that's how I'd describe writing as I sensed the last words finding place on paper. Ending the book, leaving Daisy or sensing her leaving me, that was the feeling I struggled against. Still I sensed this time coming and when it appeared I just knew, much like the first time, time was moving on. So, heart giving in to time and unknown tomorrows, I let go and redirected my focus, though blurred by tears.

Birthing gave way to a mother's heart holding on too tight, I guess that's how I’d describe leaving my baby behind in the hands of the stranger, printer. Collated pages to become a book,
now in the hands of others. Truly a bittersweet life moment.

Fear came not knowing where the pathway of publishing would take me. My heart, I knew, was not prepared for a business failure and definitely not another dead-end. With so much invested I discarded such thoughts. I chose instead to believe in new beginnings. Still, it would take standing on what felt to be the edge of a cliff, closing my eyes, and a leap of faith, totally a leap of faith.


“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
-William Shedd

"To finish is sadness to a writer—a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn’t really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done."
-John Steinbeck


Self Published Author

And so…I, one voice,
searched for simply a way to say
and to write
my heart.

To be in the end I,
name, Author?
Maybe –I Am.

Hearts finding connection,
time and wind carried pages
someday tell.

Publisher?
Find the Heart Land fertile.
Cultivate the path for my words,
Sun to find.
Sow my seed to the wind.


Jane Marla Ver Dow
Rising Sparrow