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You Are the Force

You Are the Force


In the past, I really wanted to be a writer. But I didn’t know why I wanted to write.
I just felt compelled.

For 27 years, I was TERRIFIED of writing. Of writing anything others would actually read. My perceived inability to write like an educated adult left me feeling ashamed to even talk about it.

Then I met Andrew Michael Roberts. Poet, cardiac nurse, Sassquatch enthusiast, vintage Star Wars fan and cat dad. He was my first writing mentor.

Although our meetings were brief and few, Andrew provided exactly what I needed when I needed it. Just like the poetic jedi he is. 

I shared my fears with Andrew. Although he has been writing haikus since he was five, he understood. He asked me why I wanted to write. 

I told him I didn’t know but the desire haunted me all my life. 

Andrew had this miraculous and spot on ability to spit out lazers of perfection when speaking to me about writing without trying to impart any wisdom or guidance. 
What seemed casual to him was profound to me.

For example, during my first meeting with him whereupon I showed him a few examples of my “poetry”, I informed him I didn’t like journaling. 

He replied that I probably “get stuck in the emotion” when I journaled. YES, YES, I DID! HOW ON EARTH DID YOU KNOW THAT ?! 

That is exactly what typically happened to me. 

I would furiously dump shiploads of emotional vomit all over the pages repeatedly filling notebook after notebook with maybe the exceptional few lines of something I felt wasn’t springing from self loathing only to do it again and again like an emotional bulimic.

Usually I didn’t feel any more liberated than before I started. I ended up burning many years of journals saturated with this toxicity. 

Another example of Andrew and his jedi-ness, came again in yet another “casual” conversation with me about writing. I showed him a piece of mine I do not remember writing. 

I think a muse cast some sort of magic spell over me while I wrote it because all I remember writing is the title- Three Quarters Verb.

I was intrigued by this particular piece and very interested to hear what he thought of it. The poem was brief, in prose form from the point of view of a hybrid-type human woman. 

She, in some miraculous way, would spontaneously burst into a ball of blazing light for about a minute then regain her previous form while her skin gradually returned to “the color of peaches”. 

She described herself as being “ three quarters verb, where most humans are three quarters noun.”

I asked Andrew what he thought of it. He said he had never read anything like it, that he felt it was worth developing and how the woman was me. 

I was talking about myself? WHHHHHAAATTTT ? Yeah, I guess it was me.

But how do I become more verb than noun ?

Andrew did for me what I saw him do for one of his cats who had black crusties in his nose. He grabbed him and held him tight as he probed Mookie’s nose to investigate saying, “ Relax, I’m a nurse “.

He helped me with my black crusties too- except his poet self did the picking.

Andrew Michael Roberts said when he writes poetry, he feels God moves through him. 

He isn’t the only one.



What My Mother Taught Me

What My Mother Taught Me

The Bee Queen

The Bee Queen