In The Shadow of Rainbows: A Collection of Songs of Presence by Selma Martin
Dear Readers,
Today I am so honored to share an interview with a great friend of this blog and a woman whose poetry I admire very much. Her collection, In the Shadow of Rainbows, has been out for a few months now, and I’m sorry to have waited so long to tell you about it. It’s just lovely, as is she. She is unfailingly positive and supportive, and I truly appreciate this internet friendship we’ve developed.
By time you’ve finished reading this interview, you’ll want to read her book of poetry, so do yourself a favor and just go ahead and buy it now. It’s available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Goodreads. (Here’s the Amazon link. https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Rainbows-Collection-Songs-Presence/dp/1739404440 )What’s more, if you enjoy it as much as I believe you will, please leave her a glowing review on Amazons and/or Goodreads.
On her website, Selma describes herself as a “reader, writer, learner; enthusiast, encourager, believer of miracles, and oh, so ordinary.” I would quibble with that, because she is so much more. By the time you read this extraordinary interview with her, I think you’ll agree with me.
Selma, your poetry collection, In the Shadow of Rainbows, is described as pointing the way to the beauty in the everyday, which we think is a fantastic way to live. Can you share an example of an everyday moment that has inspired one of your poems? What is your favorite poem in the collection?
I’ll start with the last part. Favorite poem? I don’t think there’s only one. I really like them all. But I will name one: Epiphany. I think we are made of two parts as humans. One part a donkey rider, and the other part donkey. In this particular poem, I made the moon a character and gave her the qualities of the universal mother. It takes someone with the qualities of a mother to appreciate the imperfect perfections that we–half riders, half donkeys–are. Please read that poem to see if you can see what I see.
As for an example of an everyday moment, here’s one that many readers have expressed resonating with:
Something’s Broken
That scraping, maddening sound,
that creaking and groaning I hear–
like iron on iron
that rises with the wind
and is followed by the loud bark
of a neighbor’s dog
if that dog hears it,
everyone in this sleepy coastal town does
But what is it?
Anything could make such a mad sound,
the swinging of a gate,
halyards slapping on the mast of sailboats,
metal dragging on cement
mattress springs,
faulty wheels on a pram,
whale calls, or
marriage-vows renounced
The dogs are anxious tonight
yes, halyards clang; mine are frapped tight.
Something scrapes that shouldn’t scrape
something’s stuck that shouldn’t be
something promised to last ends
–something’s broken
That moaning and rasping strains
heavy on the wind tonight.
Do you hear it too?
(Page 56)
***
This poem comes with echoes of the butterfly effect and I feel it’s appropriate today as it’s a reminder of how when something like wars, mass shootings, and unrest happens in one part of the world, it affects us all. Some of us discern
the imbalance and suffer from the disparity and then some others feel lost and walk around with one palm outstretched as if weighing something (what?) or perpetually checking to see if it’s raining; not grasping the enormity of how what’s happening out there relates to how we are feeling today. So really, we all hear the moaning and rasping strains. We are all going around feeling that something is indeed broken. So let’s all be kind to each other.
2. How long did it take you to write this collection of poems?
Drema, I have been writing poetry for a long time. The prose in every letter I write and the crucial one-stanza poem on every Christmas card I send out to those special people in my life. But of those, I never keep track.
In the last three years, I’ve been intentional–jotting down poem after poem that occupies my waking hours and revisiting often–and with this poetry collection, once I started moving in the direction of publishing, I had to weigh out and physically separate the ones I hoped would make it into a book.
A year ago, when I signed with my Editor, Experiments In Fiction, I was about to turn sixty and so used that number as the cut-off for the book. My Editor was generous to allow it and so with that in mind, I began composing a list of the ones I felt close to the most. They turned out to be the most relevant to where I stand at the moment.
The short answer to your question is one year. One year of trying to make each of the 60+ selected poems less clunky to the best of my capabilities. Of course, they went through a morphosis after I presented them to the Editor for the first time–She actually made them sing to a much better tune.
3. What was the most difficult poem in your book to write and why?
Little Vessel was the most difficult one, emotionally. As I expressed in my notes in the book, the poems are not autobiographical, except for one or three that made the cut. Little Vessel came from a true story I followed with a heavy heart on the news when a little boy went missing from his home.
It was the rainy season here in Japan and after his bath, the mother turned to his older little sister to finish drying her hair–An everyday routine. Well, no one can tell why that little soul chose to sneak out of his home to venture out in the rain, but he did. And what happened next is anyone’s guess. What was believed to be his little body (the vessel that housed his soul) was recovered weeks later.
This was difficult because when one of my babies was little, we had a similar scare. I took my older child to Sunday morning services and left the small one home because he had a runny nose. Dad stayed behind and they lay together sleeping. But the little one awoke and “probably” finding his big brother gone, decided to go out to investigate. We spent a horrendous half-day looking for our baby.
Ever since that, I relate to every incident I hear of a child gone missing. And so, that’s why that poem was hard to write.
4. What do you hope that readers get from your beautiful collection?
A moment’s delight and I hope that readers find a glimmer of awareness that poetry is not a puzzle to decipher but a tool that offers a respite, or a much-needed long sigh in the intricacies of the day.
I’ll take a detour to further explain: My late mother was an accomplished knitter, and I pompously assigned such a hobby to old people: Old, like a child sees one’s parents, that is. And then some time ago, I found such comfort when I ventured out to give it a try. I’ll have you know that I redeemed myself by spending a summer with my mother coaching me in a project that meant so much to her. The amazing thing is that I found the hours counting stitches and perfecting with yarn soothing, enlightening, and redeeming like I’d never imagined before.
I went on to knit many scarves that I gave out as Christmas presents and though it wasn’t my ultimate goal, this small act made my mother very happy. And me too.
Today, I’ve put yarn and yarn needle aside for the pen, and have decided to purl stitch in words. Poetry. Poetry that I hope delights and brings moments of quiet, like knitting does, to anyone who will give it a moment’s attention.
5. You mentioned that you started journaling to an imaginary pen pal. What role did this imaginary pen pal play in your creative process, and how did it shape your writing style? Do you now have real pen pals?
Writing to an imaginary pen pal afforded me the luxury to relax into a stream-of-consciousness kind of writing where I emptied my mind onto the page.
Today I have pen pals–quite a few, actually–as that’s what I call my newsletter subscribers.
A while back in a networking class I took, I learned about newsletters: a tool used by businesses and organizations to share relevant and valuable information with their network of customers, prospects, and subscribers. Newsletters give you direct access to your audience’s inbox, allowing you to share engaging content, promote sales, and drive traffic to your website.
This is what a newsletter is but to me, this trendy idea sounds like writing letters and nurturing friendships–
like what pen-palling is–and so I got right to business asking people on WordPress if anyone was interested in being my pen pal. And a few dozen responded. I am the luckiest and happiest for this.
((And if you don’t mind me saying this here Drema, I am forever grateful to have You as one of my valuable pen pals since November 2019–How time flies–thanks so much)).
6. “I wish you miracles” is a lovely phrase you often use. Could you tell us more about why you choose to end your communications with this sentiment? Is there a particular significance or story behind it?
There is a story behind this. *wink-wink* and it’s directly connected to the reason why I love it when my birthday comes every year. I know there are people who’re hush-hush about birthdays–not me and you’ll never hear a complaint about aging from me–not when I know how every year of my life contributed to a miracle my mother, with my creator’s help, helped make come through. And as this chariot that is my body takes me into another year, I’ll be reminiscing, embracing, and becoming my new year.
I still remember the many birthday eves I lived through– going to sleep early so that my birth date came faster. And then to awake to a lovely homemade birthday cake Mom produced while I slept. I do! And the addition of one more candle–pride-inducing. IT made me feel as light as a birthday balloon then, and though I don’t do the balloon thing
anymore, I still feel the lightness.
Here’s that “story”–I’m a collateral wonder.
I should have been a January baby but I couldn’t wait to meet the humans assigned to me that I found my way out at the end of October.
But no one was ready for me in October. And my poor mother, who’d lost her first baby– my big sister– after a similar premature birth, was sent home with the eye-peeling words, “She won’t make it.” It was 1962.
But my mother believed in miracles and fought the urge to accept the good doctors’ predicament. She kept hope alive, trusted her gut, believed in the goodness of the little bundle she took home and spent every waking moment in the pursuit of proving the doctors wrong.
And by God, she succeeded!
How’s that for collateral?
At every birthday, my mother would tell me how much she appreciated the miracle that I was and how glad she was to prove those doctors wrong. I cherished her words and grew up believing that I was a miracle and how lucky I was to be one.
My mother was no angel, but she gave birth to a miracle and reminded me of that every year, guiding me the best way she knew how. Under her guardianship, I learned to feel the pulse of the earth under my feet and discern miracles in everything. And everyone, so please accept the words and the wish I wish for you.
Be advised, though, that it is you who generates those miracles, not I, as I’m merely the one who’s reminding you that miracles are for real–as real as a breath of fresh air that you cannot see.
My dear mother resides in heaven now, and as I near another birthday, I hear the lovely words again. This is enough to take my breath away.
On my special day, which comes on October 29th, I get to make a wish, and that wish will be the same one I wish everyone in my correspondence and blog posts: I wish you miracles.
Hear it often enough, and you too will start to see the miracle that you are. You are collateral wonder too!
Mom’s lovely words still float me every October & keep me afloat through the year. In time, I’ll be closer to where my higher power resides.
7. Your middle name, Selma, means “peaceful and complete,” and you describe it as an affirmation that complements the joy you feel when you write. Can you share a moment when you felt particularly connected to this affirmation while writing?
Always! Writing puts me in a peaceful mood. Counting syllables, like counting stitches, or just rhyming or researching words completes me. It’s just what it is and really, the more I write the more complete I feel. I know that in time, I will be closer to my full potential and that excites me tremendously.
8. You seem eternally optimistic. What is the source of your warm energy that you share with the world?
I’m glad you asked that, Drema. And I hope you don’t see this part of me as woo-woo as this might just sound to some as cliche, but at the end of the day, when I check to see that the knob on my analog alarm clock is set to ON, I say thanks to the old-fashioned thing and then, “See you in the morning.”
In the morning upon hearing the clock’s muffled ring (muffled because I’ve wrapped a few rubber bands on the bell portion; the original infallible vibration of the artifact eventually came to sound too urgent for slow rising), I say thanks to it again and this time tell it, “It’s gonna be another fantastic day!” I’m an optimist, and you’ll always find me whispering to inanimate objects too.
I’ve just outlined for you how I end and start my day, fully aware that this doesn’t answer the question but trust me when I tell you that putting gratitude at the top of your list will open you up to a mindset that’s shunned by many today. So, in my eccentric way and with as few words as possible, without referencing what the dictionary says optimism is, I want to tell you about optimism as I understand it.
When American poet Emily Dickinson wrote the poem “Hope” and referred to it as a feathered thing that perches in the soul of humans, I’m sure her message bloomed from optimism–a fleeting capacity that humans cultivate and rely on in times of need.
And that she likened this human trait to a bird is appropriate–It describes the fleeting nature of hope which is personified as a bird: a bird sings regardless of its circumstances because that is what birds do. Optimism is hope, simple as that.
It’s the hope one has when one sets an alarm clock before retiring for the night. Hope that the clock will do what it’s supposed to do but more importantly that you will wake up to turn it off and get to live through another day simple as that. That’s what optimism is.
Where does it come from? From my innate human capacity to believe. To believe that things just don’t magically happen–I need to set the stage, employ the mindset or fertile ground if you will, for it to take root. All humans have the capacity for this. And endowed with such capacity the only prerequisite would be to be willing to interpret “the why” to satisfy a positive anticipated result. It’s a practice, a hack as the term goes, but optimism is that bird that changes subjective reality and affects your objective reality.
First, you change your subjective reality; that’s the only one you have control over. Subjective reality is the world in here (touches temple): the world of the mind, emotions, and feelings. It’s composed of one’s own thoughts, opinions judgments, and emotions. Working from your inner world changes how you see the world out there. So if you want to tap into an optimistic mindset, nourish the little feathered thing, and with a heart full of gratitude, let the little bird fly.
There are two realities:
Objective reality – “the world out there”. The world of your senses
Subjective reality – “the world in here”. the inner world of the mind. The world of emotions and feelings. It is composed of one’s own thoughts, opinions judgments, and emotions.
9. What is your writing process? As in, when you do write, do you have writing rituals? Do you write in a certain spot? Do you drink coffee or tea while you write, etc.?
I don’t have a ritual but feel I should. Some days when I write I don’t do anything else, and that involves exercising and eating. This is bad.
And then there are those days when I do not write a word and spend the entire day walking and eating and discovering things. Good or bad, hard to say, but I’m really trying to form better habits when it comes to planning out my days to do a little bit of all the necessary things that done well, should complete me indeed.
And when I write I do so in a nook in my kitchen where I have an assortment of my favorite books.
I drink two cups of coffee with soymilk every morning and for the rest of the day, I drink barley tea. Wine is reserved only for weekends.
10. Do you intend to write another collection of poems? Why or why not?
Yes, I do, because why not…
So many, many thanks, Selma, for allowing us to interview you. I think we can all say that we know you and your touching poetry better now.
The holidays are coming, so reader, do consider buying copies of Selma’s lyrical book for you and your loved ones. You can learn more about Selma and sign up for her newsletter with this link: http://eepurl.com/giYKIv . If you’d like to read a sample of it first, you can here: http://eepurl.com/iCb9rU . Her website is https://selmamartin.com/ .
Wishing you all the best and a belated Happy Birthday, dear Selma!
