TEXAS POETRY TOUR: Kerrville: 2 – Sweet, peaceful days

My time in Kerrville was the most delightful interlude. I fell in love with this pretty hill town. In my short time there I made some lovely friends whom I'll never forget.

I emailed Andrew: 'I must tell you about this man who has quite stolen my heart. His name is Mark, he is a close friend and neighbour of Harry and Anne, as is his wife Linda, whom I met and fell in love with first. She's a very artistic and also very down to earth lass from Ohio. Mark's a gentle giant with a soft, lazy voice. Oh boy is he loaded with charm!!! And oh boy am I a total sucker for it!!! After his first conversation welcoming me to Texas and saying all sorts of sweet things in that caressing voice, I asked Linda (whom he had an arm around at the same time), "Is this that Southern charm I've heard so much about?" She laughed and said, "It's what the rest of America thinks is the reason Texans wear boots." I looked puzzled. She explained: "Because the shit's so high." Anne and Harry tell me – which I can see – that in Mark's case, he does it laughing at himself, and actually does mean the sentiments of goodwill. ... I lap it all up like a schoolgirl."

Actually they were a devoted couple with eyes only for each other. Mark loved to play guitar and they both sang. 'Awesome voice' I emailed Andrew about Linda. She was also a well-known scrimshaw artist with commissions from all over the country. Scrimshaw is a traditional craft of etching on ivory or bone, carving a drawing and then rubbing paint in. Here are some links to Linda's beautiful work.

Mark and Linda have a building and renovating business. One night they took us to dinner in an old former railway station (no rail line any more), which they had rescued and restored with great authenticity after others had nearly wrecked it by turning it into a very ugly hamburger joint. Then they sold it to the present owners who run it as a beautiful restaurant. I had some lovely visits to their home too, just a few doors down from Anne and Harry's.

Then there was Donna. We clicked when we sat beside each other at the Poetry on the Patio night, and again during the mask workshop. She and her husband took me out one day to visit some of the surrounding places, including Enchanted Rock, the second largest monolith in world, next to Australia's Uluru. This was a magickal place of pink granite, the shape of which put me in mind of the top of Uluru.

As we approached it, it seemed to me large in width rather than height. It's nowhere near as high as Uluru, a sandstone formation which, Wikipedia tells us, 'stands 348 metres (1,142 feet) high (863 m/2,831 ft above sea level) with most of its bulk below the ground, and measures 9.4 km (5.8 miles) in circumference.'

But it's high enough! An official description says: 'The (Enchanted) Rock is a huge, pink granite exfoliation dome, that rises 425 feet above ground, 1825 feet above sea level, and covers 640 acres. It is one of the largest batholiths (underground rock formation uncovered by erosion) in the United States.'

It had a very otherworldly feeling, and indeed there are legends of spooky goings-on there, nevertheless its atmosphere seemed to me peaceful and friendly. We didn't climb it, which would have been strenuous I think, and we didn't allow enough time in any case, but it was very special to stand at the base, in an area of desert-like wilderness (a State Natural Area), drinking in the timeless peace. I loved the colour, too! Uluru turns many wonderful colours in changing light, but when you get up close to it the rock is black. Enchanted Rock is actually pink.

Before I left Kerrville, Donna, who has a deep interest in Native American culture, gave me two wonderful books: Who Speaks for Wolf, a learning story, and The Walking People, an oral history – precious volumes I would not even have known of otherwise, with much to teach people of any culture today.

There was Paula aforementioned, of the herbs and animals, who came for a picnic lunch by the river with Anne and me one day, and brought me more herbs and some tiny roses. We talked as if we had always known each other.

There was 'the other Ann Schneider', Harry's first wife. That was long ago, and now they relate like old friends, comfortably. She invited us to dinner while I was there, and we sat on her balcony watching the sunset and the almost-full moon.

There was Sally, an Englishwoman by birth, Anne's best friend, whom I saw more of during the Austin poetry festival a little later on, and who came to Australia last year to visit her brother who lives not too far away from us! They came to lunch at our place and I felt I was able to return a little of the wonderful hospitality I experienced in Texas.

Among her many talents, Anne is a Tai Chi teacher, and I attended one of her weekly classes that happened while I was there. She's a good teacher, not intimidating like those I had in the far past. I was surprised how quickly I picked it up again, after doing only a few classes 30-odd years before. I got all enthusiastic and told Andrew we must look for somewhere near home to do it – but that hasn't happened, and in fact I don't know of any classes nearby.

The next day Anne took me for a drive to a part of the countryside I hadn't looked at before. We sat and talked by the river, on an area of big, flat stones. I was excited to catch a glimpse of some deer over the other side, drinking. Alas, they hid themselves before I could take this picture:

She also showed me the local 'Stonehenge' built by a friend of the astronaut Alan Shepherd on Shepherd's land, in fulfilment of a vision Shepherd had while vieiwng the earth from space. There are a couple of Easter Island statues too. By no means as big as the originals, and certainly not constructed in the same way or from the same materials, but fun, and impressive in its own way. It made us smile to see tiny birds flitting in and out the structures.

Early Thursday evening I emailed Andrew: 'I just came from Uni talk/reading to small, lovely group of students and their vibrant teacher. Had great time. Some of Anne's friends who wanted to hear me again came too. Now out to dinner with a witch who did the workshop and wants to talk more. Back to Austin early tomorrow.'

The 'vibrant teacher' was Kathleen Hudson of Schreiner University. Kathleen is a fascinating woman with a great interest in Texas history and music, and is involved in innovative educational programs. Her official bio says that 'she founded the Texas Heritage Music Foundation in 1987 out of a commitment that stories and songs make a difference in the world.' She is in the English Dept. at Schreiner. The students were all poets too. It was a pleasantly informal gathering. I read them some pieces, they asked me a lot of questions, and to my great delight they also shared their work with me.

The witch, relatively new to Texas, was amused that in the Lone Star State she kept seeing our sacred symbol, the pentacle (a five-pointed star in a circle)!

She lived on a 6-acre property on what used to be an old ranch. Her place was surrounded by woodlands with lots of deer, and after dinner we stood at her fence watching them in the dark, throwing grain from a bucket to try and coax them near. Some did come fairly close, but they were skittish and shy, made sudden darts and then dashed away.

'We had a great night,' I emailed Andrew next day, 'Eating, as usual, very good food and drinking Australian wines (which are very highly regarded here, and most people try to get them in preference to any other kind).

'As I was going to bed I found myself having a bit of a weep at leaving Kerrville, where I have found true friendships that will last for life.

'This morning I cried a bit more as I packed. I walked down the few doors to Linda and Mark's and found them sitting out in their back yard over breakfast, watching the squirrels. They had just been talking about me, and were going to walk up to Anne and Harry's to say goodbye. Instead, they sat me down and gave me coffee and orange juice even though I'd already breakfasted, and I gave them a couple of goodbye gifts (Aussie coins to Mark, as he is fascinated by our animals). We had fond hugs and tender kisses. Then back to the Schneiders' to load up and give Harry a big hug goodbye. He said he was glad I came.'

TEXAS POETRY TOUR: National Poetry Month, Texas, then and now: San Antonio

First posted 10 April 2007

Here are two very recent video clips of Thom the World Poet performing for students and staff at Schreiner University in Texas. Watch both - the introduction is much the same but the poems are different.

[31 March 2019. Well, that would be great, only at some point these clips have disappeared! Nevertheless, read on.]

The woman introducing Thom is Dr Kathleen Hudson who conducts the writing course there. She's a formidable writer herself and a devoted chronicler of Texas music and musicians. Round about this time last year I was her guest, gave a performance for her students, discussed writing with them, and heard some of their own exciting work. That was while I was visiting nearby Kerrville. Before that, however, came more adventures in Austin and San Antonio, beginning with Gini's Tea Rooms in San Antonio the night after the Expressions gig.

On the way to dropping me off for the trip to the Tea Rooms, Neil took me to a reading called Poetry in the Arts. It was run by Peggy Lynch, a real Southern belle – at 83! Full of charisma, wit and joy, she welcomed me warmly and gave me two spots on her program as well as promoting my book launch. One of the musos from Expressions the night before was there, and when I was announced he called out loudly, 'She's a wonderful poet!' (I got to know him later: Chip Ross, the drummer who always plays with Roger and Clive when they visit Austin.)

Meeting Peggy showed me that the famous Southern charm is actually all about caring for people. I was to come across many more examples during my time in Texas.

Christine, whom I'd met at Expressions the night before, gave Patricia Fiske and me a lift to San Antonio – quite a hike from Austin. I don't do jet lag? Ha! It was late afternoon and I kept nodding off. Patricia was puzzled that I didn't want to look at scenery I'd never seen before, but I simply couldn't stay awake. It was Christine who realised it must be jet lag. Probably a good thing I gave in to it. I emailed Andrew later that I 'managed to put on a performance that had people remarking afterwards what a bundle of energy I am!'

Gini's Tea Rooms was like an English tea rooms with dark wood, white tablecloths, a big antique sideboard. I told Andrew: 'We all had tea or coffee, and amazing cakes. I was the final of 4 featured poets, high standard and hard acts to follow. Then there was an open section, all good. People enjoyed my stuff and said so later.'

I didn't wear The Dress; it was rinsed out and hanging up in the shower back at Neil and Dorsey's. Mim Scharlack, who was hosting the performance, had already heard about it and was disappointed not to see it. I'd been corresponding with Mim by email from Australia after Thom put us in touch. She was a slight, vibrant, pretty little woman with snow-white hair, who sang and drummed with gusto during her own performance. The drum strapped around her waist looked big enough to pull her over! But Mim is far more powerful than she looks, in all sorts of ways. I could have listened to her all night. Rupert was on the program too, and I was delighted that Roger and Clive were performing as well. It was a wonderful audience; the place was full and everyone was attentive and appreciative. For the first time, I heard the wonderful Patricia perform in public. At 79, she was glamorous, confident, talented and funny. I found out later she was a very seasoned performer with a theatrical background, who sometimes blends music, poetry, drama and dance.

It happened that that was the last night ever of the regular monthly poetry evenings at Gini's. It can be hard to sustain a poetry venue over time. The people clearly felt sad as they formally thanked both Gini and Mim, and no wonder – it had been going for nine years. I had a sense of occasion, a historic moment to have been a part of. The poets and musos finished the night with a party at Mim's house. I met her beloved old dog which wasn't well, and gave it some Reiki. It was late when we got back to Austin.

Next morning I was up early to return to San Antonio. Neil was due to pick up Dorsey from the airport, and I took a taxi to Thom's house to ride down with him and Rupert. This time I managed to take in the sights on the way. I couldn't get over it when Thom said, 'There's the Alamo,' and I glimpsed a tiny, pretty little white building overpowered by huge, glass-fronted shops and offices.

We were featured at Celebration Circle, a Sunday gathering for people of all religions. I wrote to Andrew later:

'I had the most amazing morning. We went to Celebration Circle in San Antonio: me, Rupert Hopkins from Bristol, and Thom. I wore The Dress, particularly for Mim who ran the Tearooms reading and had hoped to see it the night before. (Its fame had preceded me!)

Thom introduced me to Rudi who runs the Circle; he was younger than I'd expected. He gave me a namaste hand gesture which I returned, and a hug likewise. The venue was a theatre with tiered rows of chairs and a stage with two mikes and a couple of sound engineers testing levels. One of them greeted me "Hare Om," and after a moment of surprise, I replied, "Hare Bol."

Rudi showed us order of program, how to adjust mike, and so forth. I sat down and watched him rehearse. He is muso and poet, plays guitar and sings, and dances a bit. As I watched I went into total deja vu. He was now completely familiar to me, well known in fact, and so were the other musos who came on stage to join the rehearsal. It wasn't a dramatic thing, but very strong, and continued the rest of the time. I remarked on it to Rudi, who just laughed and was fairly matter of fact about it.

Celebration Circle is Sunday worship, of a very eclectic kind. One song he rehearsed starts: 'Come to the light. Come to Christ, come to Krishna, come to Buddha, come to the Father and the Mother Goddess too, come to Allah, come to Jesus, the Spirit that frees us ...' and goes on to ask us to remember who we are and that we are all one. I lapped it up! Partly because Rudi's energy is pure love and joy (not at all ostentatiously).

Although apparently many people had forgotten about changing to daylight saving and didn't turn up, the theatre soon became quite full. A man from India, who bought my book at Expressions the other night, brought his wife up to introduce to me. Before we began, Rudi took the musos and poets out the back for a quick prayer circle, standing holding hands and asking to be of service and to know that we are all one. It all felt soft, gentle, and nice – and genuine.

So there was music and singing. Beautiful slides of nature were shown on a screen all the time, without anything being said about them. Rudi's wife Zet invited us to honour the directions by standing and facing each direction in turn, while singing,'O Great Spirit' etc. – the chant I have so often played at my Reiki classes. At one point the several young children present were invited down on to the stage and stood there a few minutes while we all spoke love and blessings to them, very simply. Rudi gave a lovely discourse on one of Thic Na Than's questions. He and Thom did some 'word stew' combining poetry, music and discourse. And at three different places during the program the poets did a round: first me, then Rupert, then Thom. On Thom's advice I did again, as it was mainly a different audience, the 'down under' poem that has become my opener. It was a hit as usual. In fact, after that, Rudi played some music before putting Rupert and Thom on. The others I did were The Sword of Archangel Michael and Dancing for the Goddess.

At times there was a slightly gospel feel to the event, with people clapping and singing along – myself included – to things like 'This Little Light of Mine'. The whole feeling was friendly and joyous, but softer and sweeter than a gospel meeting. It had some flavour of a Hare Krishna celebration, but livelier and freer. I found it so totally nourishing I cannot tell you! I experienced it like some lovely acknowledgment bestowed on me for the path I have been following. I felt greatly blessed by the Goddess. When I gave Rudi a hug in thanks later, and told him how nourished I felt, he smiled and said, "Welcome home!" to which I responded, "Oh, absolutely!"

I am surely starting to get a sense of why this journey was so meant to be, and so serendipitously arranged despite seeming at first so impossible!'

The Sword of Archangel Michael

The sword glows
in my right hand.
My arm swings from the shoulder
wielding blue flame:
sharp light, the cut of truth.

Precise moves.
Economy. Bite.
These are the qualities.
These and blue light –
a laser that heals where it touches.

In the beginning
the word.
The word true,
the word precise,
the word deliberately aimed.

It cuts to the heart,
my sword in flight.
From the heart of God
to the point of now
exactly aimed,
quick light.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 1995
First published Divan (e-zine) issue 4, Dec. 2001.
Also in Secret Leopard: New and selected poems 1974-2005, Alyscamps Press (Paris) 2005

Rudi onstage, and with Mim after the performance