WHISPERING TO THE OPUS By Jasper Lotus Pelin

Writing allows me to reach out in a way that is intimate, unusual, surprising and familiar, like making love for the first time. When my stories flow through me I am no longer just one solo flute playing but an entire orchestra spiraling in the atmosphere of the page. I write to express the deep longings of my heart, the songs that reside in my soul. Writing opens me to the hidden passionate life of my subconscious, my dream world where words spin on the dance floor in fluid sentences.
While writing I sing my unique song and I dance my personal truth, exchanging waves, my symphony of language, my paintings of words, my body breathing on the page, expanding my ability to stay awake longer and feel fully alive. My swimming moods on the pages of every story carry me into the world, connecting me to everything and everyone, my tribe of writers and readers, my lovers. Writing allows my invisible to become visible, grounded in my desire to create beauty while telling the stories I have come to tell. I can caress the entire universe when I’m writing.
A tornado with realism and panache, rarely witnessed in a cool, dark place not far from the tree, above the faded flowers, behind her new backyard, bamboo, rose, butterfly, untouched, floating, she visited and found a story. Negotiations, a whisper, captured breathless, layers of colorful hurricane brought the garden a new life, the exact location - shredded paper inside of a shoebox, buried beneath a wild wind of French satisfaction. Mesmerized, she turned to face the quiet piece of night, pen in hand, shredded paper swirling in a sparkling orb above her head.