The Haiku Foundation - Haiku for Parkinson's, September 2024

My thanks to Stella Pierides for inviting me to participate in this wonderful initiative!

My article, "Haiga for Healing", explores the relationship between colour in my artwork, and its impact on my chronic illnesses:

https://thehaikufoundation.org/haiku-for-parkinsons-haiga-for-healing-debbie-strange/

The transcript of this essay can also be viewed under the "Articles/About" tab of this blog.

The Haiku Foundation: Haiku for Parkinson's Feature

Curated by Stella Pierides

September 2024

Haiku for Parkinson’s is a feature of The Haiku Foundation (THF): introducing haiku to those of us living with Parkinson’s Disease (PD), as well as introducing PD to those ‘living with haiku.’ You will find previous posts from this series here.

In August, we ventured beyond the Parkinson’s Disease landscape to explore the benefits of haiku for ailments of the heart. September takes us to a cluster of conditions that may benefit from applying haiku in its iteration in Haiga, the form that marries haiku with image.

Debbie Strange writes:

Haiga for Healing

Though I do not live with Parkinson’s, I have been diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, severe Fibromyalgia, and Essential Tremor, which share some of the same characteristics. When it became apparent that the efficacy of traditional pain management pharmaceuticals was negligible, I knew I had to concentrate my efforts on finding another method to help mitigate the debilitating effects of chronic illness. As many fellow sufferers will attest, we are generally open to alternative pain management methods to help reduce our reliance on medication. We often feel as though we have lost control of our lives. In my opinion, it is worthwhile to take whatever small steps we can to regain some power over the fight-or-flight response to trauma. My daily creative practice is a direct result of that challenge, and it has become both a healing and a meditative force in my life. I spend about five hours a day writing and making art, and this dedicated time continues to help me cope with symptoms and flares.

Over the years, I gradually noticed a visceral relationship between pain levels and the colours I used in my art. I became fascinated by the ancient Egyptian theory of colour psychology in which the effects of colours on mood were studied and applied holistically. One of the treatments was to shine light through coloured crystals, allowing it to enter the body. This method was believed to heal ailments, and it was adopted by many other cultures. Nowadays, this might be considered pseudo-science, but the underlying concept is central to the ongoing exploration of my emotional and physical reactions to certain colour combinations in my paintings and photography.

Carl Jung developed art therapies to help people deal with trauma, stating that “colours are the mother tongue of the subconscious.”

After some experimentation with the effects of colour on my mood, I began to gravitate less to black-and-white photography and stark ink sketches, in favour of more vibrant work. I found that the use of colour helps to stimulate my brain’s production of endorphins, which are useful hormones in combatting stress and pain. On bad days, I tended to paint in somber colours, and write dark poems, whereas on good days, the opposite was true. Now, I deliberately choose to use colours in direct contradiction to what the mind-body connection is telling me. Injecting colour into my life often helps to elevate mood and de-escalate pain, contributing to an enhanced overall sense of well-being. Of course, what works for one person may not work for another. Though this “therapy” does not always produce a positive outcome for me, any scintilla of relief is gratefully received!

The following comparison uses the illustrative haiga technique to explore this article’s theme. You might experience a different reaction to each image.

 

 (The colourful version was awarded Editor’s Choice in Haiga in Focus #73, July 2024)

One of the most enjoyable and calming aspects of my artistic practice is the daily creation of haiga based on original photographs and artworks. Pain becomes secondary to pleasure while I am engrossed in the process. I have created and shared thousands of haiga via journal publications, The Haiku Foundation Haiga Galleries, and my blog archive. I use illustrative, interpretive, and associative techniques in a variety of mediums, such as watercolours, inks, acrylics, and collage. The possibilities are endless, and I am excited every day to immerse myself in the process. Making haiga seems to soothe my body into becoming less a vessel for pain and more a receptacle for imagination, hope, and joy! At the end of a haiga-making day, I am exhausted but also exhilarated. It is especially rewarding when a reader comments that my work has resonated with them on some level.

At the beginning of the Covid pandemic, I invited 50 emerging and established short-form poets to collaborate on a haiga project for healing. They contributed poems, and I created accompanying haiga. Sharing this creative process was one of the highlights of my haiga-making life, and I am grateful to all those who so generously provided their words.

I encourage everyone, healthy or infirm, to try their hand at this venerable craft. You don’t need to start with anything more complicated than a few words, a simple line sketch, a splash of paint, a bit of torn paper, or a photograph, and you are well along your way!

This quote by Vincent Van Gogh speaks to the artist, poet, and musician in me: "I don't know if you'll understand that one can speak poetry just by arranging colours well, just as one can say comforting things in music."

Please note: This article should in no way be taken as medical advice. It simply documents my own experience with the relationship between colour and pain.

Enchanted Garden Haiku Journal, Issue 9: Amber, August 2024

Honoured to be interviewed by the editor, Steliana Voicu, in this issue! Please access this interview via the "article/about" tab on this blog, or read it here:

https://enchanted-garden-haiku.blogspot.com/2024/08/enchanted-garden-supplement-interview.html

Also grateful to have the following work included in this issue:

Translated into Romanian

one-room school

grain dust sparking

in the sunlight

The Solitary Daisy, Issue 18, January 2024

Thrilled to be the featured poet for this issue, and grateful to Sally Quon for the interview. Please see the full interview under the "articles/about" tag of this blog or click on the following link:

https://thesolitarydaisy.ca/2024/01/interview-with-debbie-strange/

Trailblazer Contest, 2023

Honoured to have the following concrete work selected in the tanka/kyoka category as one of three finalists (longlisted from 99 entries) in this "contest without winners"! My thanks to the judging panel for their selection and insightful comments below...

Comments from the Judging Panel: Hemapriya Chellapan, Kat Lehmann, Shloka Shankar, Richa Sharma, and Robin Anna Smith

It would not be an understatement to note that this concrete tanka puzzled and intrigued us the most at first glance. We felt like detectives trying to piece together the almost asemic-like marks in red until one of the panelists pointed us in the right direction; the marks are commonly used in proofreading. Here, the marks denote:

INSERT / CAPITALIZE / CLOSE THE GAP / DELETE / LOWERCASE / NEW PARAGRAPH / TRANSPOSE

The shape of the tanka mimics that of welling cutting pliers, commonly used for marking and trimming the meat in livestock such as pigs, goats, and cattle. If the poem were to be presented in the traditional s/l/s/l/l format, it would look something like this:

welling cuts

there is nothing left

to say to her

that hasn't already

been said . . .

Instead, the poet has chosen to create clusters of two, three, and four lines respectively, to show the biting action of the "cuts." This could be interpreted as an abusive relationship, perhaps between a mother and a daughter, on the brink of a complete breakdown in communication. As another panelist noted, the marks add to the sense of panic or mental confusion experienced by the persona. In this context, it would be interesting to look at the wordplay of "welling," used as a noun and verb here, causing them to emotionally "well up." They are constantly walking on eggshells, trying to watch what they say, but it doesn't matter—everything they say is turned against them, leading to an impasse. When the same fights are picked or triggered repeatedly, the responses become verbatim and, unfortunately, one starts to predict the next likely barb coming one's way. The deliberate choice to place the ellipsis at the end and not after "welling cuts" shows the resignation of the poet's persona.

This was one of the stronger tanka entries we received and is trailblazing for the risks it takes, both visually and conceptually.

Interview with me:

What inspired the poem?

I am inspired to write experimental poems rooted in trauma-based life experiences and news events, and this kyoka/tanka is an example of that practice.

What was your process for writing it?

The poem revolves around word association and the asemic-like structure of proofreading marks. Their colour is reminiscent of welling blood, and the marks resemble the varied shapes of physical wounds and scars. I chose to use ragged lines to emphasize this aspect, and the uneven blocks of words represent the way humans are inclined to compartmentalize overwhelming emotions. I think we have a tendency to edit trauma into bite-sized portions so that it becomes more easily digestible. If one is repeatedly subjected to emotional or physical abuse, the senses often become numbed as a coping mechanism. The second block of words can be taken literally or metaphorically, and the third block is meant to be ambiguous. The ellipsis at the end of the poem indicates resignation and it is a concrete visualization of the knowledge that there are more "cuts" to come.

cuts 1: emotional abuse

• cutting comments meant to inflict maximum pain
• cutting people out of one's life
• cutting/ignoring others

cuts 2: physical abuse

• human-to-human: using torture during war, the escalation of world and domestic violence
• human-to-animal: using marking pliers to identify livestock, and the animal cruelty practices common in the production of our food
• human-to-self: I was reminded of a friend who slit her wrists and the fact that cutting is particularly prevalent among teen girls.

cuts 3: writers' tools

• cutting words: a short-form poetry technique
• cutting: editing a writer's work ("kill your darlings")

How do you think the poem helps to push the boundaries of or contributes to the genre?

I hope the content and shape of this poem might encourage other writers to incorporate non-conventional visuals into their work, thereby extending the limits of the form, and broadening our idea of what is deemed to be suitable content.

What other forms, formats, or iterations did you consider, and why do you think the poem had to be written this way?

Though the initial poem was written as presented in the commentary, I quickly realized that this format was not challenging enough, and that it did not contain the gravitas for which I was striving.

Is there anything else you want to share about the poem or your writing practice?

I'd like to thank the panel for selecting this poem and for their thought-provoking, astute, and encouraging commentary.

I make art and write a little something every day, whether my muse is visiting or not, because I know the process will ultimately be cathartic, healing, and inspirational for me! This daily practice is a vital tool in helping to mitigate the isolating effects of chronic illness.

I was also delighted to discover that the following concrete work was longlisted from 314 entries in the haiku/senryu category, even though it was not ultimately selected as one of the 13 finalists:

Triveni Haikai India: Tanka Take Home Featured Poet, January 2023

Wednesday Feature: Tanka Take Home

Hosts: Firdaus Parvez, Kala Ramesh, Priti Aisola & Suraja Menon Roychowdhury

The interview can be accessed via the "Articles/About" tab of this blog.

My closing comments after a month of mentoring:

Well, my dears, we have now come to the end of our four-week tanka journey. Thank you for your warm welcome and generous comments along the way. Your enthusiasm and openness to gentle suggestion has made this a most rewarding experience!

Thanks also Priti for the invitation, and to our Triveni hosts, Kala, Firdaus, and Suraja, for initiating this Wednesday Feature. It was a privilege and honour to participate.

I'm beyond grateful to my husband, Larry, for gifting me his evenings for the past month. Were it not for his assistance with reading and scrolling, I would not have been able to immerse myself in your lovely offerings.

I leave you with this tanka art as a token of my gratitude...

to all creatures

that make the forests

i give thanks

for acorns gathered,

then forgotten

If we think of tanka as a mature and revered forest, aren't we all beginners (acorns) in the larger scheme of things? My life has been enriched by tanka, and I hope yours will be, too!

(Note for the tanka art enthusiasts here: I chose to employ the associative technique for this artwork, rather than the illustrative or interpretive approach.)

I'm now riding off into the sunset, and I have passed the tanka baton the masterful poet, David Terelinck!

a thousand thanks, and many blessings,

Debbie

Selected comments from participants:

It's been a wonderful opportunity to read your verses, and your feedback on our verses, Debbie. Thank you so much! (Linda)

Thank you so much Debbie for enriching our lives with your generous feedback and thoughts. We thank you and your lovely husband for taking the time from your busy schedules. Really appreciate it. I like the acorn reference. I'm that acorn right now. So blessed to be in this forest. (Firdaus)

Thank you so very much dear Debbie for your precious time devoted to this project with such enthusiasm and eloquence and thorough command of the art of tanka. (Barbara)

What a wonderful month it has been. It's been such a pleasure reading your exquisite tanka and we have been blessed with your sensitive and detailed feedback to our work. I know that I have learned a lot this month. (Reid)

What a rich month it has been. We thank Larry for helping you each evening and most of all to you for the effort and time spent in our forum. Words are inadequate to express my gratitude. (Kala)

Thank you so much for this enriching month of poetry and interactions, Debbie. It's been a wonderful privilege. I extend my thanks to your husband too for his time and commitment. I am a very small acorn in this forest of giants...I look forward to reading your poetry in the future and hopefully having you visit here again. (Suraja)

Thank you, Debbie and Larry. It has been a rich learning experience this month. (Amrutha)

Debbie, your presence here each day for this entire month has meant so much to each of us. We looked forward to your responses and thoughtful feedback...your 'gentle' suggestions. It has been a wonderful and rich learning experience for each of us...Loved your tanka art. Your tanka has left a deep impress and I will treasure it. (Priti)

Oh, wow. Debbie's two shimmering tanka fell into my afternoon like manna from heaven, both enriching and uplifting. I'm simply gobsmacked by her work, especially that first one. (Billie)

January 4, 2023:

dried cattails

delicately spun with frost

confections

sweetening the bitterness

of winter without you

2nd Place, 2022 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition

awaiting

rain's unkept promise

crops wither

in the dust of dreams

passed down to me

1st Place, 2022 Drifting Sands Monuments No. 1 Contest

Challenge for this week: commentary by Priti

With its significant, opening word 'awaiting' in L 1, the second tanka creates anticipation in the reader; then it speaks of belied hopes through a strong image of withered crops as the rain fails to keep its promise. This is followed by a shift to a personal moment and experience from the speaker's own life. One is also struck by the skillful use of personification and metaphor in this well-crated tanka.

January 11, 2023:

a smudge

of blackbirds swirling

into evening . . .

how fluid the shape

of this sorrow

2nd Place, 2018 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition

as if I were

this ash-filled burl,

black veins

of decay winding through

my body like a river

Commended, 2020 The Burning Issue Tanka Contest

Challenge for this week: commentary by Priti

The first tanka opens with a striking image of 'a smudge/of blackbirds swirling/into evening . . .' The sight of the birds silently whirling into fading light makes the narrator articulate this perception: 'how fluid the shape/of this sorrow'. Each of us knows that profound sorrow has a way of coming back in waves to overwhelm certain moments of one's life.

In this lovely tanka each word is used with care and has its rightful place. Also, the repetition of the 's' sound makes it flow with mellifluous ease.

January 18, 2023:

mute swans

under a moon bridge

the things

I should have confessed

make no difference now

1st Place, 2016 Fleeting Words Tanka Contest

dried curls

of gray reindeer moss

crunch softly

underneath our boots . . .

no other sound, but breath

1st Place, 2016 San Francisco International Tanka Competition

Challenge for this week: commentary by Priti

When I read the first tanka several times and reflected on it, I wasn't aware that a 'mute swan' is so called because 'it is less vocal than the other swan species'. I was drawn to the striking image of the 'mute swans/under a moon bridge'. The narrator could've said 'silent swans'. However, 'mute' is more evocative and resonant. There is a deep pause after L2 and then the narrator plunges into the lower verse with her dramatic statement: 'the things/I should have confessed/make no difference now'. Dexterously, she juxtaposes the muteness of the swans with her muteness or silence about certain things. Then finally ends her confession about not having confessed certain things. There is a realistic recognition of this truth: how passage of time alters the significance and impact of a confession. Or, makes it unnecessary.

An image based on direct observation and the precise simplicity of the words to speak of a certain emotion make this tanka a memorable one.

January 25, 2023:

tracks of birds

meander through snow . . .

the surgeon

marks her left breast

with a cross

1st Place, 2016 British Haiku Society Awards

the ocean

was in a rage last night

but today,

these peace offerings

of blue mussels and kelp

1st Place, 2018 Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest

Challenge for this week: commentary by Priti

The second tanka, which lends itself beautifully to recitation, starts with moments of turbulence and ends on a note of serenity. With each quiet reading, it offers a deeper and richer experience, not just of the natural world, but of the world of people too: their tendency to disrupt relationships and then re-forge them. Sadly, not all 'rages' transition to 'peace offerings'.

Haiku Poet Interviews by Jacob Salzer, November 2022

My thanks to Jacob Salzer for inviting me to participate in his Haiku Poet Interviews Series! The text of the interview can be accessed under the "Articles/About" tab of this blog.

https://haikupoetinterviews.wordpress.com/2022/11/01/debbie-strange/

Trailblazer Contest, 2021

Honoured to have the following concrete tanka selected as 1 of 12 finalists (longlisted from 406 entries) in this "contest without winners"! My thanks to the judging panel for their selection and insightful comments below...

Comments from the Judging Panel:

Chrissi Villa: This tanka is not only visually compelling, with the jumbled arrangement of the letters of "capsized" and the upside-down reflection of the words of the whole poem, but is also poetically poignant.

Shloka Shankar: I recently read a poem by Jim Harrison titled 'Becoming,' and the opening lines, for me, truly encapsulate the emotions underlying this brilliantly crafted concrete tanka:

Nowhere is it the same place as yesterday.

None of us is the same person as yesterday.

We finally die from the exhaustion of becoming.

We all have to face the inevitable uphill battle of growing old and frailer as the years pass us by. The visual potency of this poem, seen as a mirror image, is somehow magnified, staring us straight in the face. What particularly struck me was L2: the "i" in lowercase is almost a depiction of helplessness, the image of being lost at sea, without any kind on anchor.

On the other hand, there is a quiet sense of acceptance that pervades this poem, making it all the more appealing and relatable.

Julie Bloss Kelsey: Strange's visual poem about the loss of health evokes a boat, with scattered letters over the surface of the water implying deeper problems lurking just beneath the waves. The placement of the letters in "capsized" - with "i" in the center - brings to mind a spinning vortex. This is reflected in the rest of the text - "sink deeper into the shipwreck of my body." The repetition of the vortex, both visually and conceptually, effectively implies that the subject of the poem is also falling deeper into depression over their situation. Expertly crafted.

Alan Summers: The use of I on its own line has me thinking of times when 'we' as an individual capsize, and the "i" is reduced by circumstances, and social pressure. Of course, health is always an issue, and sometimes it's not merely physical and physiological, but affected by external issues such as politics, war and famine, poverty, intimidation, and other circumstances beyond our control. The "i" needs to stand on its own line, as we must never lose sight of ourselves despite extraordinary times and peer pressure.

Interview with me:

What inspired the poem?

This tanka was inspired by my experience with chronic illness and the resultant physical and emotional trauma.

What was your process for writing it?

My daily writing practice helps me to shift focus away from the things I cannot control to the things I can! I keep a file of words and fragments that spark my imagination and interest. The word "capsized" was the driving force behind this poem.

What other forms, formats, or iterations did you consider, and why do you think the poem had to be written this way?

The first iteration of this tanka was written in the traditional five-line s/l/s/l/l form. Its final version emerged as a concrete poem because I wished to express the sentiment in a more dynamic manner. The scattered letters symbolize the feeling of being overwhelmed. Use of a lowercase "i" serves to emphasize loss and the myriad ways in which the marginalized and disabled are often made to feel small. The reflected letters are a metaphor for drowning.

How to you think the poem helps to push the boundaries of, or contributes to, the genre?

Invisible disability is often misunderstood, much like tanka, so the dialogue between these two subjects comes quite naturally. Debates surrounding the definition of these topics continue to evolve, and I'm excited to lend my voice to the ongoing conversation!

 

Serow: Journal of the Akita International Haiku Network, Volume 4, Spring 2021

Grateful to be a featured poet in this issue! 

https://akitahaiku.files.wordpress.com/2021/06/serow-vol.-4s.pdf

The transcript of this feature may be viewed under the "Articles/About" tab of this blog.

The Haiku Foundation - New to Haiku: Advice for Beginners, May 2021

My thanks to Julie Bloss Kelsey for inviting me to take part in this interview series!

https://thehaikufoundation.org/new-to-haiku-advice-for-beginners-debbie-strange/

The transcript of this interview may be viewed under the "Articles/About" tab of this blog.