Author: Maria

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Creative Practices to Boost Your Writing Journey

I just completed the first month of The Stafford Challenge, writing a poem a day for a year. Reminiscent of the now defunct NaNoWriMo, this creative challenge requires fewer words in a day, but extends the challenge across 12 months.

Once upon a time, I produced a lot of poetry. Some of it was good; most of it was trite. I can’t say that it has gotten any better, but I am enjoying the challenge and surprising myself with some progress. I may not be winning the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize, but I look forward to my mid-afternoon cup of tea and a sheet of paper to see what jumps out of my fancy fountain pen. If nothing else, this challenge has given me an opportunity to ponder my world and I’m grateful for the experience. 

Many years ago, I came across Julia Cameron’s creativity-retreat-in-a-book, The Artist’s Way. It was sometimes hard, sometimes enlightening, and always encouraging as I worked through the exercises and figured out what fed my creative side. 

I learned a few things that carry over to this day:

  • I need to write a little bit each day. ideally, I write several pages in a journal, but some days look more like several lines, sometimes copied from scripture. The point is that I show up to the page.
  • I need to embrace activities that feed my creativity. Over the years I’ve done acrylic and oil painting, photography, needlepoint, jewelry making, mosaic and tile work, puzzles, sketching and watercolor, and my newest hobby, 3D puzzles. I always feel refreshed when I return to the page.
  • I go on dates with myself, to see and do new things on my own schedule because I deserve it!

Perhaps these things have helped me be a better writer. I can say with certainty they’ve made me a writer that comes to the page with a joyful heart.

How do you feed your creativity?

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Christmas Eve Thoughts

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; Upon those who lived in a land of gloom a light has shone….

This morning I’m sitting quietly by the Christmas tree with its lights casting a warm glow in the room. if I had a fireplace, it would be on, but I am cheating a bit with one of those fancy candles that have a piece of wood for a wick. In the early morning silence, I can hear the occasional crackle of the wood. It could be a scene out of a Hallmark movie except I’ve never really lived in a “white Christmas” setting with roaring fires and cider at the ready.

I think it’s interesting that I mark time from one Christmas to the next rather than the new year, with all its resolutions. The passage of time is felt in the way I’ve celebrated Christmas through the years.

Whenever I see “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” pop up on the tv line-up, I get a little giddy with anticipation. Surely “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas“ will soon follow, and so begins the build-up of anticipation I felt as a child. I still delight in the joyful celebrations of hot chocolate and candy canes, and while the noise of a commercialized holiday rings everywhere I go, my heart yearns for the “peace on earth” heralded in song and colorful displays.

Christmas, as the Grinch observes, is not about the “noise, noise, noise!” that distracts, a bait and switch that promotes consumerism over peace. No, the good ole Grinch ponders, “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!”

What the Grinch hints at, Linus captures beautifully at the end of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” when he reads the nativity story in Luke.

The birth of Christ is what I am anticipating.

A flicker of light punctuated by the subtlest of pops from my candle brings my attention to the little statue of the Holy Family. The bible in my lap is opened to Isaiah 9:1-6 where I read

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace.

And know I have found this “little bit more” alluded to in the noise, but found in silence.

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Review: Tinā (Mother)

It’s probably not a great idea to review a film while the tears are still wet on my face, but here I am, weeping and writing, and urging you to watch the deeply moving film, Tinā (Mother). 

The protagonist, Mareta Percival, a music teacher dedicated to her Samoan community in New Zealand, suffers the tragic loss of her daughter in the devastating earthquake that hit Christchurch in 2011. She spirals into a depression, leaving both teaching and her Catholic faith, unable to cope with her grief. 

At the urging of her nephew, and facing the very real possibility of losing the aid that is barely sustaining her, Mareta takes a position in an elite private school and establishes a choir. 

Mareta not only faces bigotry from the staff, but resentment from her friends for abandoning the community school. She defends the children in the prep school, observing they have their own challenges. Meanwhile, Mareta navigates the loss of her faith, alluded to in a passing scene with the empty spot where a crucifix once graced a wall, now notably removed, but still present in the sunburned and stained impression upon the empty wall. The politics of school administration, bigotry and class conflict, and relationships impacted by her grief weave a tapestry of conflict and despair. 

Despite her mourning, Mareta finds purpose in helping one of her new students who reawakens her love of music.

Reminiscent of Sister Act 2, much of the action is driven by the choir’s challenges when they enter a prestigious choral competition. Mareta trains her students by sharing her Samoan culture, teaching them traditional songs and dances.

There is much to unpack in this film, sometimes funny, always tender. Tinā conveys the power of music as both a source of community and healing. Despite the undertones of loss, this is a story filled with hope.

 Tinā (Mother)

 8 October 2024

 Directed by Miki Magasiva

 The Brown Factory /New Zealand Film Commission

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