January Zine
 

Debut Poetry Collection!
 

I am thrilled to announce that my debut poetry collection Odes to Lithium will be published by Alice James Books in September 2019! I have been a fan of this stunning indie press for over a decade & am so so honored to join their family.

I can't wait for you to have the whole collection in one place––in your palms. Till then, you can find some of my latest published odes here & here & here. 

Too, I want to thank you for your support over the years. As I grappled & shared & re-grappled & shared some more, you were there. It's not always easy to talk about illness, to share intimate truths, to put one's life out there. You sent me notes of support. You taught my odes to your students. You told me what this work meant to you. You gave me encouragement, filling my sails, pushing me forward with breath after breath of yes. Thank you. You inspire me forward with greater clarity & joy.

Are you looking to write, weekly, in an intimate crew of poets? Are you seeking the divine in the everyday, the possible in the impossible, the holy in the simple? If you're in New York this February & March, I'll be teaching a poetry class investigating spirituality in our everyday via Brooklyn Poets–––Thursday nights in Boerum Hill.
 

Registration ends February 18th & class size is limited to 5-10 students; there are still a couple spots open, so snag 'em while they're still available!
 

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I'm also taking 1-on-1 online students for March & April. I'm loving my new offering–––Power Hour! It's been a blast to connect with you in this jam-packed format. Whether you're interested in a six week course, or in a one time session, drop me an email today!

2017 was a year of discovery & integration. I painted for the first time in a decade. I toured the country as a musician & poet & teacher & lecturer. I read poems about Lithium to nursing grad students & taught my sixth (!) session of my online group class In Surreal Life & sold giant portraits of grandmothers & pool players.

All of this is to say: I had a lot of pots going on a lot of burners.

Now, this isn't so different from all the other years. I've always been a multi-maker. The difference is that in 2017 I embraced it. I stopped fighting categorization. Musician or poet? Teacher or traveler? Fuck it. I stopped resisting. Something shifted. I let the flood in. I felt a swell of generosity pumping through me. Colors became brighter. Shapes grabbed hold of my attention. I was filling notebooks with squiggles & loops, reading Kandinsky's essays on minimalism for fun & allowing myself to stop caring about what or where or how I should be. I ate a lot of cookies.

Moving into 2018 it felt natural to collect all my makings under one company: freer form. it's just that. a bowl to collect all my offerings: poetry workshops, painting commissions, performance, etc. It's also in flux, as the name suggests. It's a way to always be exploring–––& in the exploring, embracing. 

 

Creativity has taught me that it's not entirely natural to confine one's self to a specific shape for too long. No matter the medium, joy & growth can be found in reaching for your newest shape, your freer form.
 

 

Maybe the word is permission. Maybe it's release. Maybe it's not a word at all, but a nagging feeling that something is amiss, that your chest is too rigid with do instead of be. & In that discomfort, that tightness, there becomes recognition & with that recognition, real ease. I wish this for you. 

I don't think we can will it. By it I mean a good shift, a real green bud. But we can water it. We can put our ear to the ground of our being, that fertile place. I don't mean that it's fun to do, or easy, or sweet. It can be awful to listen, because who knows what will pop up. It's scary. It's real.

I believe Rilke when he wrote, "Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night." I believe in The Shrieking Everything, the overwhelm, the yikes & whoa that is this teeming life. But Rilke also said, "Let life happen to you. Believe me: life is in the right, always." 

Life is in the right, always. I believe the ground of your being has good messages, love letters even. I believe in the delivery. I believe in the tearing open, the devouring of the words. I believe in you, freer.

With maple syrup,
Shira