Live Virtual Group Session: 6pm EDT October 12th 2020

Sixteen participants from India, Maine, Mexico, Michigan, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvaniaโ€”one who was new to our circleโ€”gathered to close read the poem โ€œSnow Mareโ€ by N. Scott Momaday, cognizant of todayโ€™s holiday that celebrates indigenous Peoples. Momaday is a member of the Kiowa nation. He is best known for his novel House Made of Dawn, which won the Pulitzer Prize, although he prefers to be recognized as a poet.

The words and phrases that called many peopleโ€™s attention included:

            bursts of soft commotion

            the burden of being 

(Sorry, everyone, the capitalized โ€œOfโ€ was our transcription error.)

We discussed color, properties of hardness and softness, verbs of being, memory, and the dissolving nature of dreams and memories. We imagined porcelain fields and dreams that bring comfort, all in a background of confectionersโ€™ sugar and gentle hooves. Tonight we also generated a sizeable number of auditory, visual, and literary texts elicited by Momadayโ€™s:

            The Dream of the Blue Turtles (Sting)

            Blue Horses (Mary Oliver poetry collection)

            Big Blue Horses (Franz Marc)

            The Snowman (Wallace Stevens)

            The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Kundera)

Three people read what they wrote to the prompt: Write about bursts of soft commotion.

Each were scenes involving childrenโ€”a childโ€™s near-death experience of eating/inhaling flour; children romping and squealing in a park; โ€œbrain burstsโ€ after falling on ice. One person noted that Momadayโ€™s line โ€œShe shears the web of winterโ€ brought her back to last weekโ€™s text โ€“ Pablo Nerudaโ€™s Ode To A Pair of Scissors. We were sorry to lose our fourth reader to an interrupted internet connection. Perhaps she will post her writing on the narrativeblog.com.

Tonightโ€™s session concluded with a three-minute trailer, from a documentary on N. Scott Momaday featured at the Seattle Film Festival in 2019, which is titled โ€œWords from a Bear.โ€

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday, October 14th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


The Snow Mare by N. Scott Momaday

In my dream, a blue mare loping,
Pewter on a porcelain field, away.
There are bursts of soft commotion
Where her hooves drive in the drifts,
And as dusk ebbs on the plane of night,
She shears the web of winter,
And on the far, blind side
She is no more. I behold nothing,
Wherein the mare dissolves in memory,
Beyond the burden Of being.