The beautiful Mylené was one of my husband, John’s colleagues at the University of St. Thomas in Houston. I took a literature course from her and to this day, deem her as one of the finest teachers I have ever had. She was truly inspiring, and opened up so many new doors for me, in terms of my literary perspective.
She is a former ballerina, and one of the most graceful people I have ever known. Back then, she had long, long hair, and would sort of dance around the classroom as she enthusiastically spoke about the Harlem Renaissance and the other literary topics that we broached in that class.
We have kept in touch off and on through the years, and it has been fantastic to watch as she has produced novel after novel and has become successful. I love seeing my friends succeed in their endeavors. This friend, in particular, has been fun to watch, because she does so much to promote other writers. Wonderful, intelligent person, Mylene is. ( Her name is pronounced Me-lan <–and lan rhymes with ran.) 🙂 Isn’t that a pretty name?
Anyway….I sort of got off track there. My whole reason for bringing her up is because I thought I’d share the quote that she posted…because it’s pithy:
“All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is . . . Think about it. There’s escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capturing the wolves, taming the wolves. Being thrown to the wolves, or throwing others to the wolves so the wolves will eat them instead of you. Running with the wolf pack. Turning into a wolf. Best of all, turning into the head wolf. No other decent stories exist.”
Isn’t that great?!
I love Margaret Atwood’s poetry, and I love her fiction…but I do not love her sci-fi so much. I mean, “The Handmaid’s Tale” was perfectly written and very interesting. I’m just not into that genre.
Atwood recently worked on a project with an environmental documentary maker-friend of mine in Santa Rosa. I was dying to meet her, but alas. The opportunity did not arise.
However, when it comes to poetry, no one can steal my heart quicker than Pablo Neruda . Wow. What power he exudes! He truly speaks to my heart….and I realize I’m jumping around in this post…probably because I am procrastinating about doing my homework…
This little verse is heavily on my mind this morning…
“Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.”
Even translated, Neruda’s words lose nothing. They are magic….or more aptly put, he captures the magic that I already feel in my heart.
Art by Dale Chihuly
Photograph by Stacy Alexander
©Stacy Alexander – All Rights Reserved
Whose writing most makes your own heart sing?