Dear hearts, by now most of you know that our Judi stepped out of time and into eternity this morning, shortly before 9:00 a.m. EDT. While it is difficult to accept her passing on, we can take comfort in our shared memories of her, and the joy she brought into each and every one of our lives.
I've created this space for us so that we may meet here and remember our friend. On this common ground, please feel free to post your memories, your poetry (especially if you wrote it in her workshops or under her guidance), things you remember discussing with her, and most importantly, the things you want her family -- including her writing family -- to know.
Be gentle with yourselves, and with each other. I'm missing her, and I know you are, too.
Marsha
I've created this space for us so that we may meet here and remember our friend. On this common ground, please feel free to post your memories, your poetry (especially if you wrote it in her workshops or under her guidance), things you remember discussing with her, and most importantly, the things you want her family -- including her writing family -- to know.
Be gentle with yourselves, and with each other. I'm missing her, and I know you are, too.
Marsha
31 comments:
Judi is a wonderful woman who actually got me to write a pretty good poem! Liz
I sent this to Judi when I learned we were losing her. I gave some of it by telephone to Jason, her son, so she heard that at least.
Dearest Judi--
You are one of my favorite people in the world.
A loving heart,
but not naive.
A sense of humor
both wicked and kind.
One of the best teachers I have ever known—
I loved your class.
Your beautiful mind and heart—
creative, and drawing others into creativity too.
I always think of you when I see a kaleidoscope.
Not just because you enjoyed them and shared them with others.
The brilliant, colored facets remind me of your mind, your poetry, your voice, your chuckle.
While I have no grandchildren yet,
I have their copies of Names for Snow
awaiting them. :)
Know this, dear one, that I carry you in my heart and will all my days.
Anne
from Brookdale first
and then our beloved Skidmore,
a roommate,
a friend
who learned so much from you
and cherishes you beyond the words
Blessings, love, and light always
forever
ad infinitum
Dear Jason:
I have a little, very recent anecdote about your wonderful mother. When I sent out my request for donations for the give away gift baskets for Skidmore and the Big Apple conferences, your mom responded quickly and generously. Along came a big box just full of wonderful writing related gifts. Among them were a supply of her flower muses.
We handed out three of her boxes of writing prompts and ten of her flower muses at the Saturday program of the Big Apple Conference. Everyone loved them. And, in usual IWWG synchronicity, one of the women who received a flower muse showed me a charm attached to it of a circle within which was a quarter moon and a star. All in silver. She told me that she had once made a necklace exactly like it and wore it constantly. One day a friend admired it so much she gave it to her. She said to me: "Now I feel as though that necklace has come back to me."
There were two women from England in the front row and I gave each one a flower muse. One of them approached me during break and showed me her charm. It was also a circle, also silver, and it contained the letter G. Her name was Gena.
I have my own flower muse hanging from my monitor where I can easily see it and be inspired.
I wish you peace, Jason, and the rest of your family as well. Liz
I keep thinking about her smile and the light she brought to this universe. She taught me how to love this universe by looking at the details. She taught me how to see the good even when things seem to be bad.
Judi I love you and I hope you are dancing with Stu, smiling that amazing smile.
Judi is my friend, sister, mother, mentor, spirit guide, dancin' to the blues partner, driving all the country roads never taking those boring freeways partner - I could not be the person I am today without Judi, and she still ponders over why her workshops were always standing room only!
I hear God saying, Oh Judi, we are so glad you are back home...we've been so needing your light here again.
Now, she can share it even more brightly.
As I walked along last evening to the light of the full moon ( in Scorpio) I found myself singing,
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine.
I was so lucky to have spent that last week with her - sharing with her most special light, Jason and his bride Gaj. What a gift for me to reunite and to now know Jason as a grown man, not just that little kid who hung out with Jeff , or that young man going off to college, or even the newly married husband. Jason, I love you and thank you for you and that week in Maine when we loved your Mom so good!
We'll see each other again soon to share another chocolate milkshake.
Judi, til we meet again , my friend, I love you.
Judi, dear Guild Sister: You will always be with us, at Skidmore and everywhere else we may go. You are the poetry we carry in our hearts and through which we can understand and delight in life. Thank you for being in the world. With love, D. H.
Dear Jason and family,
Each year during the Guild's summer conference, I made a point to join Judi for a few breakfasts in the cafeteria. She was as consistent as the sun, always sitting at the same table, ready to laugh with whomever sat with her. Nothing started my day on a happier note than sitting in the presence of Judi's engaging personality and sharing stories of our respective writing projects, workshops, or ideas for promoting the Guild.
She shone brighter than the rising sun.
Much love and prayers,
Judy Adourian
Dear Marsha and SUsan B and all who had the idea for this website -THANK YOU.
I spent today like I do most Tuesdays, doing expressive arts groups at an addiction day treatment center in Schenectady, and I read alot of Judi's poetry out loud today to my clients, who loved her work....as I do.
Judi's radiance will remain in the world,through her wonderful words and in the collective memory of IWWG and all others whose lives she touched.
I had the privilege of knowing Judi through WERU-FM. in Maine. Her feature, Poetry Pantry, was a beloved part of my radio show for eight years. I always looked forward to the day she would come to the station to record her next three months of poems. First, we would take the time to catch up and share some laughs. Then we would get down to work. I engineered while Judi read the poems she had chosen for her feature. I always told her she had the best "poetry voice" around. She could bring me to tears or laughter and of course, I had to do both in silence so it wouldn't be heard on the recording!
Judi is one of the most beautiful people I have ever known. The world is a much better place for her having been here and the world is a much sadder place now for her leaving.
i love you, Judi.
I always got a laugh out of her by telling her,
"Judi Beach,
you're such a peach.
I'd give you a hug
if you were in my reach."
And, I say that to her now, again.... and again.... and again....
Nancy Ruth Davis
Judi lit up any room she entered.
I really discovered her when she read her "The Want Rant" at an open reading at Skidmore. It spoke to me deeply as a woman and as a writer. I treasure the copy she gave me and re-read often, remembering her passionate delivery of her own words.
Below, I quote the poem's closing stanzas, which seem so fitting, so generous, thank you Judi:
(From "The Want Rant" by Judi Beach)
I want to flame the curtains
the walls
the fences
any erections
between my hand
and what I really have to say.
I want to burn down
the warehouse of memory
arrange ashes
according to their truths.
I want Truth to burn hot and fast
through the neighborhood
and town.
I want it to scourge
the countryside
and blaze, baby
and keep us all hot
in our truth-telling
and bothered
by any thought
that isn't combustible.
even now
i hear a twinkling bell
swirling 'round a diamond-shiny
spell
-- it's you! Winking!
So clever! ;)
Playful, gentle
ours forever,
giggling
You, bright sun on the breeze
i'll write, and listen -- promise
-- and hear you in my heart, like always
My loved Friend Judi,
From this other side of the world I want to send you all the love that is possible and with that I will only retribute you a little-little part of all I have got from your loving words, your wise toughts, your caring arms... There is not way to Thank you for all what you have sow in our lives... in my life!
I will keep you close to my soul and my feelings ALWAYS, as a light to follow. And with me I will carry the wonderful scent of you --your perfume that you so gracefully gave to me in a bottle and that I treasure with reverence. The one that makes me feel joyfull every time I put it on my skin and that every time gives me a ray of sunshine upon my face while I remember your beautiful and everlasting smile.
THANK YOU, Judi, for being part of my life! You will live through me where ever I may go and I will have you in my heart in every step of my road.
God bless you.
Emma Hernandez
Madrid
Tuesday night, I took Judi's book, Flight, to my freewriting group meeting, and after our short one-word warm-up, we took our inspiration from Judi. The writings that transpired were rich and satisfying for everyone involved
A wonderful poet from our group picked the poem "Ecstatic Poem (after reading Rumi)" to inspire our first write, because it is such a beautiful elegy for Judi. Here is what I wrote:
"Each day dies so another can live."
Yes, they do, and like days, people go through the same cycle, moving on to what's next to make room for new souls whose time has come to our here and now. Judi moved on yesterday, along with whatever other souls whose time had come, while all over the world, new souls forged their way through birth canals, coming into the light, drawing that first cool breath of air.
May at least one of these precious new lives have the soul of a poet, a soul that can craft words into glowing, flowing visions of light and love, nature and divinity. We need poets who can let "undiminished sun stream through the open windows of their chests," opening their heart chakras to help us find our own. We need their flight, their light, their burning abundance. Powers that be, please gift at least one of today's new lives with the soul of a poet. Give the gift of words.
The we moved on to "Advice to Writers," each of us picking whatever part drew us most (or working with the whole). Here's mine:
"Forget you can't fly; forget you might fall. Think of the journey."
I always forget I can't fly, despite numerous bumps and bruises to the contrary. My heart goes deep, finding strength to make that leap. Sometimes I do manage to soar, while other times it's a slow float down, but sometimes the world rises up to smack me with the force of granite. Still, I walk to the edge and make the leap, disregarding costs my heart refuses to let me count up. I'm not sure I ever completely forget I can't fall, but I can usually not let it stop me. I think of the journey, and if it is somewhere my heart feels I need to go, I walk until I come to a gorge and then make the best leap I can, hoping legs and heart and spirit can merge their strengths to send me soaring. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. Sometimes heart and legs grow worn and weary, too sore and tired to send my spirit high enough to catch the thermals and ride the wild winds.
The ground is hard at the bottom of the canyon. When I crash I feel bruised, flattened like poor old Wily Coyote, but I wasn't made to live flattened into two dimensions on the floor of a canyon, lost in shadows. I was made to reach for the light. I lie there for a time. Breathing. Feeling. Gathering the weary bits of my resolve into a new whole. I peel myself off the canyon floor, inflate myself with love the best I can. I take a deep breath, a prayer for strength, and then I start to climb, toes and fingers clinging to rock, refusing to let go or look down. Again and again I will climb the heights, take the leap, for those times when I can catch the thermals and soar.
Judi is gone from us on this physical plane, our here and now, but oh, the abundance of inspiration she left for those who love her, with the magic of her words.
Your beaming smile, your gentle voice, of the earth, all shades of blue.
Barbara Hyde Haber
Dearest Judi,
I never told you how beautiful I thought you were, or how your radiance lit up the sun. I know your spirit will always be shining in my hearts and that you are somewhere dancing up a storm.
Love you, miss you.
Dorothy
The first time I sat in Judi's class was the Sunday of my first Skidmore, in 2000, the year I uncovered my "poet." I was so frustrated & discouraged by my inability the previous day to generate any satisfying poetic writing, if any at all. At the end of Judi's class, I approached her like a timid schoolgirl and asked, "What did you do that made me able to produce something in this class?" She told me that she designs her writing prompts such that a foot is always planted--form-wise, not just thematically--for the muse to dance around. That has been, by far, the best teaching advice I've ever received--beautiful Judi metaphor for "freedom within constraint." You forever reside in my poet & teacher head, Judi, stunningly clear this week as I write and read poems and prepare for my Skidmore workshop. Some say that when we write, we should imagine our intended reader. I realize, in Judi's physical absence, that all these years I've been writing poems, reading poems, and designing workshops, imagining her reading my poem, listening to me read to her someone else's poem, and sitting in my class.
What I remember: I had the great pleasure of hosting Judi at an IWWG mini-gathering in Maine a while back, where her bon vivance and knowlege of IWWG lore made us into captives. From class -- Devilish Secrets! -- I learned that the Muses endowed Judi with the grace of Keep Perception. Her desert fox ears were sharply attuned to the deep, earth-shaking power of words, yet she was gentle in her apprenticing of pilot-writers. The voyage with Judi could be a challenging one, at the end of which this sweet Calypso endowed the voyager with the fortitude and insight to reach her own true Ithaka. Hail and well met, Judi Beach!
Judy Huge said....
Names for Snow, Judi's children's book, and my granddaughter Madeline's language arrived on the scene about the same time. We read it together often and I made sure she heard Judi's inscription: "For Madeline. Never lose your sense of wonder."
One early winter day on the Cape, as Madeline and I sat reading all its names, the first snow of the year started falling outside our windows.
As we had done many times, we rushed out the door and threw back our heads to taste the snow. Yet this time was different. Worry creased Madeline's four-year-old brow as she touched her tongue and asked, "Meme, what happened to the wonder?"
I offer all of us who are sad the same answer as I gave Madeline that afternoon: Lay your hand over your heart's place and know that the wonder is there and will be always.
And so will Judi.
Dear Jason & family...
Each day at Skidmore was made more beautiful by Judi's bright presence as she pulled her cart to class, stopped to say "Hello!" or sat to chat.
Her light will continue to illuminate all of our lives as Judi still fills our hearts with shared memories of her kindness, beauty, warmth and generous giving.
I love you Judi and miss you all the more.
Uzuri
I took Judy's workshop nearly every day of my first Skidmore Conference in 1999.
I wrote in new ways, heard words in new ways, and realized that the world didn't have enough women writers.
I learned that my muse, my need to write, my voice, was louder than any inner critic I thought I had, because if that critic were so powerful, it would have won a long time ago.
Judi helped me on the path to finding more courage as a writer. I still have the stone I took from that first conference. It always makes me smile.
I am glad to have known her. I am sorry for all those who will never have that chance.
Hugs,
Rona
My red stone "from the bag" twinkles on my desk, exactly like the twinkle in Judi's eye.
Barbara
My condolences go out to Judis friends and family. She will be a great loss to the IWWG. All are in my prayers.
Blessings,
Elizabeth Bennett
http://www.peerabuse.info
Kalynn said. . .
As we memorialize you Judi, you keep on inspiring us to write. . . creatively prompting us in death as you did in life - there is no greater tribute to one who has lived - that she would continue to show up on the horizon. That her light on the upturned leaves can still dazzle the darkness.
Dear Jason and family,
Judi's "Little Box of Possibilities" continue to be a well of inspiration, and I'll be using them this coming fall when teaching my first ever Intro to Creative Writing course at NYU. She lives on in our memories, our hearts, and in our daily writing practice.
Reese
When I think of Judi, I remember her kindness, open face, and that I always had the feeling she was really listening.
She was present.
That was one of her large gifts to us.
Love to you, Judi.
Dear Judi,
I celebrate you. I'll always remember the support you
gave me during five summers at Skidmore, whether in
your morning class, at "your" breakfast table, or during
random chance meetings. Our northern Virginia Kitchen
Table Group still uses all three of your prompt boxes.
I still have the "permission slip" you gave out on the
last day of your class two years ago, authorizing me
to write without fear or judgement. Although it has
technically expired, I trust you have granted me an
extension!
Much love,
Gail Reinhart
Judi shared her smiles and warnth with all who had the privilege of knowing her through the Guild. Her enthusiasm for writing and for life will continue to impact us all.
Randy Rolfe
I hope people will donate to IWWG on Judi's behalf. She told me frequently how important she thought Skidmore was, how much she hoped it would go on and on, summer after summer. And she did all she could to keep it going. So now we can go on doing that for her and for writers who can at least benefit in this way from Judi's legacy.
Dear Jason:
I read this poem of your mom's today. She gave us all some good advice.
"The Color of Heart"
Remember the color of heart and use
its punctures as sockets to lookout
on the world around you even when
the bowl you live in offers colorless fish.
And even if the ocean leaches itself of blue and green,
remember the color of heart,
for the heart knows the miracle of breath though it has never breathed, knows
the long-distanced mile though it has never run,know the intimacies of fingertips
and the small cave at the base of the throat though it has never left the bathysphere of the chest.
Remember to praise red and all small wounds, for each conjures compassion.
Remember to thank tears for their basting which prevents the heart from becoming tough,
a chunk of gristle you want to spit
back onto the plate you've been served.
Remember, this fist of muscle can endure what you thought you never could,
and remember that what appears to be black and white
swimming outside you has,
at its center, bright red.
I wish you well in your life's journeys and may you know always how much your mother loved you.
Mary Allen Sochet
... And the angels gathered 'round with paper and pens, and Judi taught them to write Heavenly poems.
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