Time.
My old friend.
Time.
My muse.
Time.
My enemy.
I often pray that I can stop time. My daughter is about to enter middle school. My baby has somehow turned three. I want to hit "Pause" right this instant.
I often dream that I am forward in time. My book is published. I'm holding readings and signings. I'm travelling, promoting this book that I love, that I fully believe in. I'm ready.
I often feel that there's never enough time. I'm grading papers as new papers come in to me. I look at the stack, yet I long to write. I long to escape back into the fictional world I've created. But there's no time for that right now.
I often feel that time passes so slowly. Some mornings I awake and immediately think ahead to the moment I climb back into bed, the covers pulled up and over my head, darkness in my personal cave.
Time.
My love.
Time.
My reality.
Time.
My dreamer.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Reliance, Part II
Flip Flop Burgers (https://www.flipflopburgers.com/) is in a large, wooden building with corn hole boards, chairs, and a fire pit outside. It's attached to the Hiawassee Whitewater Company (http://www.hiwasseewhitewater.com/). We walked into the enclosed porch which had been made so by an assembly of about a hundred old window frames, mismatched, stacked on top of and next to each other. We were immediately greeted by the couple who own the businesses, Mechell and Bryan Mayhew. Bryan was stoking the flames in a wood burning fireplace and Mechell told us to make ourselves at home. And that was how I ended up eating a juicy hamburger and fries while pulled up to a fire in my rocking chair, watching the Olympics and listening to country music. In other words, how I found my home. Mechell and Bryan told us about how busy they are in the season, and described the bonfires and live music they have on summer weekends. I can't wait to go back there when it's full of life, but I have to tell you, I was loving this place on a cold winter's day.
After lunch we drove to the Higdon Hotel (1914). I have a fascination with abandoned buildings, and this one was one of the niftiest I've seen. Unfortunately, there was a prominent "Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted" sign on the front of the house (photo on Instagram), but we did get to take some pictures and note all of the beautiful details of this building. I was overwhelmed imagining all of the stories that building could tell. That's why I adore abandoned buildings. There are so many words there, so many stories.
We stopped by the Watchman's House (1895) on our way back to the historic district (photo on Instagram). This building sits just above the train tracks and now serves as a guest house (yes, I will be staying there). The "Reliance" sign serving the railroad tracks is a great touch.
We drove around the mountain and ended up at a small store with many trucks parked in front. It advertised BBQ and bait, so we went in and were immediately greeted. I think it was obvious that we weren't from around there, and honestly, the people looked surprised to see us. In the back of the store a group of seven or so older men were sitting at tables (meant for the BBQ patrons, I assume) just talking and enjoying. It reminded me of the convenience store down the road from our family farm and the men who used to sit in the back laughing and drinking. They were a constant in my childhood until the store was sold to a gas station chain.
The woman at the register was so welcoming to us that I bought a Moon Pie (not that anyone needs a reason to buy a Moon Pie) before we walked around outside a bit. There was a back deck that I'm sure is full in the season, and a little covered walking bridge that crossed the creek to a well-worn path.
We headed back to Reliance and to our last stop: The Vaughn-Webb House (1888). This is the house in the photograph that inspired my new manuscript (photo on Instagram). It had even more character in person. The blue flower pots had been replaced by dark planters, and there was a beautiful, blue glass ornament on the weather vane that stood up from the front gable. The grayness of the day cast a darkness upon the house, and I realized immediately that the photograph I had purchased had been enhanced in color. The ornate gingerbread around the gable and the detailed decorations around the porch spoke to authentic craftsmanship and pride.
I was looking at the curtained windows, considering the characters that people my novel, when a voice broke my reverie.
"Are you guys following me?"
It was the black and white dog and the woman who had picked him up in her truck.
Her name is Tammy, and she takes care of the Webb holdings. Harold Webb owns the house, the church, the general store, the hotel, and the nearby farm. Tammy takes care of it all.
We also officially met Gray, the dog, who was incredibly friendly and who knew right away that Jennie is a dog person and so loved her almost to the ground. He was named Gray, Tammy told us, because "everybody names their dog 'Blue', so he's named 'Gray'". We chatted with Tammy for a while, learned that Mr. Webb was at home but that he currently had guests, and asked questions about the plants we had seen along our way...plants are Tammy's specialty. She encouraged us to come back in the summer to see all of the plants in bloom, and she promised that she would remember our faces.
Everyone in Reliance was friendly, welcoming, and above all--happy. There is an ease of life there, an appreciation for nature, a friendliness of spirit that made these strangers feel like we were part of this place. And everywhere we went, we found daffodil bulbs in bloom. I think that was Tammy's touch.
As we drove out of Reliance, I felt inspired, more than I expected to be. Reliance is alive for me now, and as I inhaled the clean mountain air, I know I took a bit of its character with me. I am so excited to return to Reliance. And so excited to let this story flow.
After lunch we drove to the Higdon Hotel (1914). I have a fascination with abandoned buildings, and this one was one of the niftiest I've seen. Unfortunately, there was a prominent "Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted" sign on the front of the house (photo on Instagram), but we did get to take some pictures and note all of the beautiful details of this building. I was overwhelmed imagining all of the stories that building could tell. That's why I adore abandoned buildings. There are so many words there, so many stories.
We stopped by the Watchman's House (1895) on our way back to the historic district (photo on Instagram). This building sits just above the train tracks and now serves as a guest house (yes, I will be staying there). The "Reliance" sign serving the railroad tracks is a great touch.
We drove around the mountain and ended up at a small store with many trucks parked in front. It advertised BBQ and bait, so we went in and were immediately greeted. I think it was obvious that we weren't from around there, and honestly, the people looked surprised to see us. In the back of the store a group of seven or so older men were sitting at tables (meant for the BBQ patrons, I assume) just talking and enjoying. It reminded me of the convenience store down the road from our family farm and the men who used to sit in the back laughing and drinking. They were a constant in my childhood until the store was sold to a gas station chain.
The woman at the register was so welcoming to us that I bought a Moon Pie (not that anyone needs a reason to buy a Moon Pie) before we walked around outside a bit. There was a back deck that I'm sure is full in the season, and a little covered walking bridge that crossed the creek to a well-worn path.
We headed back to Reliance and to our last stop: The Vaughn-Webb House (1888). This is the house in the photograph that inspired my new manuscript (photo on Instagram). It had even more character in person. The blue flower pots had been replaced by dark planters, and there was a beautiful, blue glass ornament on the weather vane that stood up from the front gable. The grayness of the day cast a darkness upon the house, and I realized immediately that the photograph I had purchased had been enhanced in color. The ornate gingerbread around the gable and the detailed decorations around the porch spoke to authentic craftsmanship and pride.
I was looking at the curtained windows, considering the characters that people my novel, when a voice broke my reverie.
"Are you guys following me?"
It was the black and white dog and the woman who had picked him up in her truck.
Her name is Tammy, and she takes care of the Webb holdings. Harold Webb owns the house, the church, the general store, the hotel, and the nearby farm. Tammy takes care of it all.
We also officially met Gray, the dog, who was incredibly friendly and who knew right away that Jennie is a dog person and so loved her almost to the ground. He was named Gray, Tammy told us, because "everybody names their dog 'Blue', so he's named 'Gray'". We chatted with Tammy for a while, learned that Mr. Webb was at home but that he currently had guests, and asked questions about the plants we had seen along our way...plants are Tammy's specialty. She encouraged us to come back in the summer to see all of the plants in bloom, and she promised that she would remember our faces.
Everyone in Reliance was friendly, welcoming, and above all--happy. There is an ease of life there, an appreciation for nature, a friendliness of spirit that made these strangers feel like we were part of this place. And everywhere we went, we found daffodil bulbs in bloom. I think that was Tammy's touch.
As we drove out of Reliance, I felt inspired, more than I expected to be. Reliance is alive for me now, and as I inhaled the clean mountain air, I know I took a bit of its character with me. I am so excited to return to Reliance. And so excited to let this story flow.
Reliance, Part I
On Saturday morning, my dear friend Jennie and I began the journey to Reliance, Tennessee. I admit I was like a kid en route to Disney World, but I tried to keep calm for the sake of everyone I was to encounter.
We drove up highway 411 in Georgia and passed into Tennessee. There were so many fascinating sights along the way. Perhaps the most intriguing was a Creole restaurant in a cement building on the side of the highway. I've been around long enough to know that you would either have the absolute best meal of your life at a place like that, or one so offensive you'd pay and run out the door. We also passed a house with a mannequin standing up in the front lawn, a scarf painted onto her head, her frozen arm waving at the traffic. Fascinating.
We turned off 411 onto 30 and were greeted by a yellow sign with a black horse and buggy on it. I knew there was an Amish community nearby, as its members come to our family farm in the summer to pick their blueberries, but seeing this sign was a treat, and as we curved through the mountains, I began to realize what dangerous territory this was for the Amish.
I had already written that the road leading into Reliance was like a snake, and let me tell you, it was even twistier and turnier than I could have imagined. We wove around the mountain, through thick, dense woods, and alongside the broad Hiawassee River. That river has agency, and as it was a dreary, windy day, it was rolling around quite rapidly. There was power in that water.
We passed a sign that read, "Reliance, Unincorporated", and the house in my photograph appeared immediately on the right. I won't reenact the moment for you, but let's just say my enthusiasm was clear. We drove on to get the whole picture before we began to explore, and so passed the Union Baptist Church and drove into an park that offered a boat launch, picnic tables, and a rental store closed for the season. As we turned in, a beautiful dog with coarse, black and white hair began to run alongside our car and then pulled away once we were in the park. He would turn out to be our guide of sorts.
Stretching above the park is a railroad track on a bridge. It comes out of the forest and crosses over the river before running alongside the mountain. On this day, the parking lot was empty and we saw not a soul, so we stood enjoying the natural beauty around us, and I walked to the launch and dipped my hands in the water since this river plays such a central role in my novel. It felt right to commune with it for at least a moment.
Our attention was caught by the sound of a pickup truck and someone hollering at the dog who was still racing around the park entrance. A woman got out of the truck, lifted the dog in, and made her way to where Jennie and I stood. She pulled up to Jennie and I arrived in time to hear her: "I hope this dog didn't give y'all no trouble." We assured her that he was fine and with a smile she pulled away.
Next, we visited the Union Baptist Church, built in 1899 (picture on Insta @meganprewittkoon). We were captivated by the foundation, which is composed of stacks of rocks that lift the building away from the ground. I imagine it was to prevent flooding since the church is perched at the river's edge. The building has a rich history as a church, a Masonic Lodge, and now a community center. The doors are absolutely beautiful, and were absolutely locked on this day, so we peered in the windows to see the pews, an antique settee, and what looked like an old piano/organ. The sconces on the walls held antique lamps. Behind the church were some old bridge trestles (We later discovered they were from the original bridge to cross the river. The trestles were all over the town, often used as gates or fencing.) as well as a lemon tree that had long, massive briars growing around the center of the plant, which produced a round, citrusy fruit that looked unlike any lemon I'd ever seen.
We visited the Webb Bros store next (photo on Insta). Unfortunately, it was closed, but inside I could see historic artifacts, Reliance t-shirts, and outdoor gear for rent. The store served as a general store/post office/library in the past, and said it would reopen in March. All the more reason to return!
At this point we crossed the river on the new (1992) bridge and stopped off at Flip Flop Burgers, the only business we'd seen open thus far.
Read on in Part II
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Books for the Road
Next weekend I will be packing my bags for a research trip to Reliance, Tennessee. My friend Jennie and I are heading into the mountains with a playlist of mountain music and no itinerary. I like to think we're like Truman Capote and Harper Lee.
I've been reading a lot to prepare for this trip. Several months ago, I began reading Our Southern Highlanders by Horace Kephart and The United States of Appalachia by Jeff Biggers. I'm now adding Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance, Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier, and everything by Ron Rash to the list.
But I've also been reading books with voices that are new to me, and books by some of my favorites. Here's what I've finished recently, and what I'm currently reading:
Recently Finished:
The Hate U Give by Angie Brown: What a powerful book. Written through the point of view of an African-American teenager who watches as her best friend is shot by a police officer, this novel looks society's stereotypes in the face and scoffs. I honestly learned so much from this book. It presented me with complex views on situations and lifestyles that I had grossly oversimplified. THIS BOOK IS IMPORTANT. Read it.
Ugly by Robert Hoge: When my daughter finished reading this book, I heard her slam it shut and then the sound of her running feet in the hallway. She came into my room, thrust the book into my hands, and insisted I read it immediately. Fans of Wonder will like this book as well, a nonfiction account of a man who was born with a tumor on his face, and his quest to reclaim the word "ugly".
Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine: I have never read extensive works of prose poetry, and now I think I've spoiled myself with this one. What a powerful testament to what it means to be a citizen of color in the United States. Bold, creative, heartbreaking, strong. We need this story now.
Letter to My Daughter (and Amazing Peace) by Maya Angelou: I've been on an Angelou kick recently. Her words bring me comfort and hope, but also make me uncomfortable when they should. Letter to My Daughter is a handbook for life. I need to purchase a copy for myself and every man or woman raising a daughter. I'll even make it a package deal with Enough by Kate Conner (which I was reading at this time last year).
Reading Now:
On Living by Kerry Egan: Nonfiction collection of stories by a hospice chaplain. Just over halfway through and I have already made positive changes to my life and my perspective. When's the last time I considered how amazing my hands are? And in case you think this book would be a downer, you're wrong. It's inspiring.
Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: I'm struggling here. I know, I know. This book is right up my alley. It won the National Book Award. I don't get it either. But I'm not giving up!
The Play of Death by Oliver Potzsch: I absolutely adore The Hangman's Daughter series. Historical, mysterious, funny, and full of characters I enjoy spending time with.
What I'm Teaching Now:
A Streetcar Named Desire: And not only so I can justify showing the movie every year. This play is spectacular.
Modern Poetry: Have I mentioned yet how much I adore ee cummings?
LaLa Land: One of the great joys of teaching a film class is watching as half of the class is singing along while the other half looks as if they're slowly dying every time someone bursts into song.
As you can see, I have so many words in my life. It's the way I love to live. Actually, perhaps it's the way I have to live. And I love it.
I've been reading a lot to prepare for this trip. Several months ago, I began reading Our Southern Highlanders by Horace Kephart and The United States of Appalachia by Jeff Biggers. I'm now adding Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance, Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier, and everything by Ron Rash to the list.
But I've also been reading books with voices that are new to me, and books by some of my favorites. Here's what I've finished recently, and what I'm currently reading:
Recently Finished:
The Hate U Give by Angie Brown: What a powerful book. Written through the point of view of an African-American teenager who watches as her best friend is shot by a police officer, this novel looks society's stereotypes in the face and scoffs. I honestly learned so much from this book. It presented me with complex views on situations and lifestyles that I had grossly oversimplified. THIS BOOK IS IMPORTANT. Read it.
Ugly by Robert Hoge: When my daughter finished reading this book, I heard her slam it shut and then the sound of her running feet in the hallway. She came into my room, thrust the book into my hands, and insisted I read it immediately. Fans of Wonder will like this book as well, a nonfiction account of a man who was born with a tumor on his face, and his quest to reclaim the word "ugly".
Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine: I have never read extensive works of prose poetry, and now I think I've spoiled myself with this one. What a powerful testament to what it means to be a citizen of color in the United States. Bold, creative, heartbreaking, strong. We need this story now.
Letter to My Daughter (and Amazing Peace) by Maya Angelou: I've been on an Angelou kick recently. Her words bring me comfort and hope, but also make me uncomfortable when they should. Letter to My Daughter is a handbook for life. I need to purchase a copy for myself and every man or woman raising a daughter. I'll even make it a package deal with Enough by Kate Conner (which I was reading at this time last year).
Reading Now:
On Living by Kerry Egan: Nonfiction collection of stories by a hospice chaplain. Just over halfway through and I have already made positive changes to my life and my perspective. When's the last time I considered how amazing my hands are? And in case you think this book would be a downer, you're wrong. It's inspiring.
Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: I'm struggling here. I know, I know. This book is right up my alley. It won the National Book Award. I don't get it either. But I'm not giving up!
The Play of Death by Oliver Potzsch: I absolutely adore The Hangman's Daughter series. Historical, mysterious, funny, and full of characters I enjoy spending time with.
What I'm Teaching Now:
A Streetcar Named Desire: And not only so I can justify showing the movie every year. This play is spectacular.
Modern Poetry: Have I mentioned yet how much I adore ee cummings?
LaLa Land: One of the great joys of teaching a film class is watching as half of the class is singing along while the other half looks as if they're slowly dying every time someone bursts into song.
As you can see, I have so many words in my life. It's the way I love to live. Actually, perhaps it's the way I have to live. And I love it.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Where Am I?
One of my favorite aspects of working on a new manuscript is immersing myself in the place of the story. I've written in previous posts about my love of the American South. But within the South are so many regions, so many unique places that vary dramatically.
Sweet Divinity was set in a place I know well. The rural foothills of northwest Georgia is beautiful country with rolling hills, trees so dense you can lose yourself in them, and fresh, clean air that fills the lungs and the soul.
Miranda is set in early 20th century Charleston, SC, a place I lived during graduate school, a place that certainly has a character all its own. One of my favorite stories of my time in Charleston involves a co-worker of mine from Drayton Hall Plantation. For the record, Drayton Hall is the only original plantation house you can tour in Charleston. It's the real deal, and all of the museum educators (we were more than "tour guides") have relevant college degrees. When you travel to Charleston, choose Drayton Hall.
When I worked at Drayton Hall there was a man named Bob who had been a museum educator there for so long that he actually knew the final Drayton to live in the house. He himself lived in a carriage house downtown in a compound with another man who collected antiques and Bentleys. Every year they opened their homes for the Charleston Tour of Homes, and so the year I worked at Drayton Hall, I of course went to see Bob's house.
I went to see the antiques next door, the most memorable being a pair of giant iguana feet turned into mugs. I also went to see the Bentleys which were kept in part in a double-decker garage. But what I really wanted to see was the portrait above Bob's mantle. It was a thing of legend with the other educators, and I was itching to get a peek. So I dragged my husband downtown and we waited patiently to enter Bob's home.
I wasn't disappointed. Bob had a dog named Beauregard; in fact he had had several dogs over the years, and all were named Beauregard. And above his mantle hung a portrait of Beauregard. Bob had taken a portrait of a Confederate general to an artist who took the human out and put the dog in. Before me was a painting of a golden retriever in a Confederate general's uniform, holding a pen, signing a document, looking incredibly regal.
Charleston is full of such stories.
My new manuscript, Reliance, takes place in a small, southern mountain town in the early 20th century. I'm planning a road trip to Reliance, Tennessee, in a few weeks to fully immerse myself in the place and in the culture. But for now I've tried to capture Reliance in my imagination, and here's what I've come up with:
The road into Reliance is like a snake wrapped around the heart of the mountain. The trees are dense, primeval, untouched by the hand of man. The people of Reliance are just as untouchable, and just as swift to strike.
I can't wait to go to Reliance and listen to what the mountains are ready to share with me.
Sweet Divinity was set in a place I know well. The rural foothills of northwest Georgia is beautiful country with rolling hills, trees so dense you can lose yourself in them, and fresh, clean air that fills the lungs and the soul.
Miranda is set in early 20th century Charleston, SC, a place I lived during graduate school, a place that certainly has a character all its own. One of my favorite stories of my time in Charleston involves a co-worker of mine from Drayton Hall Plantation. For the record, Drayton Hall is the only original plantation house you can tour in Charleston. It's the real deal, and all of the museum educators (we were more than "tour guides") have relevant college degrees. When you travel to Charleston, choose Drayton Hall.
When I worked at Drayton Hall there was a man named Bob who had been a museum educator there for so long that he actually knew the final Drayton to live in the house. He himself lived in a carriage house downtown in a compound with another man who collected antiques and Bentleys. Every year they opened their homes for the Charleston Tour of Homes, and so the year I worked at Drayton Hall, I of course went to see Bob's house.
I went to see the antiques next door, the most memorable being a pair of giant iguana feet turned into mugs. I also went to see the Bentleys which were kept in part in a double-decker garage. But what I really wanted to see was the portrait above Bob's mantle. It was a thing of legend with the other educators, and I was itching to get a peek. So I dragged my husband downtown and we waited patiently to enter Bob's home.
I wasn't disappointed. Bob had a dog named Beauregard; in fact he had had several dogs over the years, and all were named Beauregard. And above his mantle hung a portrait of Beauregard. Bob had taken a portrait of a Confederate general to an artist who took the human out and put the dog in. Before me was a painting of a golden retriever in a Confederate general's uniform, holding a pen, signing a document, looking incredibly regal.
Charleston is full of such stories.
My new manuscript, Reliance, takes place in a small, southern mountain town in the early 20th century. I'm planning a road trip to Reliance, Tennessee, in a few weeks to fully immerse myself in the place and in the culture. But for now I've tried to capture Reliance in my imagination, and here's what I've come up with:
The road into Reliance is like a snake wrapped around the heart of the mountain. The trees are dense, primeval, untouched by the hand of man. The people of Reliance are just as untouchable, and just as swift to strike.
I can't wait to go to Reliance and listen to what the mountains are ready to share with me.
Saturday, January 20, 2018
We Needs Your Stories Now
Today, across the nation, Women's Marches were held, uniting men and women in working for social justice. As I stood at our local park, looking at the variety of signs and listening to the speakers share their unique stories and call for constructive action, I began to think how today, perhaps more than ever, words matter.
Words matter because they are the means by which we communicate our needs to one another.
Words matter because they are the means by which we lift each other up and thrust each other down.
Words matter because sometimes we communicate without the fortune of seeing the facial expressions or without hearing the vocal inflection of those speaking to us.
Words matter because our choices matters.
Words have denotations, connotations, cultural significance, historical significance.
Words have power.
We have seen how words have been used to manipulate, violate, assault, denigrate, and oppress.
We have also seen how words have been used to elevate, console, form, connect, and save.
Words have tremendous power.
As a wise one once said, power comes with responsibility, and we have all seen the pain and hurt that comes with using words irresponsibly. We can all think of times when we have used words irresponsibly and times when we've seen those in power misuse words and be faced with significant consequences.
In a world where we are often limited to 280 characters, it is more important than ever to acknowledge the power of words and to choose them well.
So today, as I stood in the sun and looked and listened, I saw and heard some words that held great power, power that I believe is working towards positive change.
"Every vote counts, because every person counts."
"As if the words make the science any less true."
"I am the wilderness."
"Only knowledge erases fear."
"Don't let anyone else steal your narrative."
We all have stories, and as I've written on this blog, we need stories now. So today I'm ruminating on my narrative. I'm trying to choose the precise words, to give power to the words, and to let the words speak the truth and work towards goodness. I hope you'll do the same.
Tell your story. Take control of your narrative. Choose your words. Choose words that are the most precise words. Choose words that are true. Choose words that use your story to create and to grow rather than to shame or to regret. Choose your words. Take control of your narrative. Tell your story.
Words matter.
We need your stories now.
**And thank you to Sydney for recognizing in the moment that the words heard today needed to be recorded.
Words matter because they are the means by which we communicate our needs to one another.
Words matter because they are the means by which we lift each other up and thrust each other down.
Words matter because sometimes we communicate without the fortune of seeing the facial expressions or without hearing the vocal inflection of those speaking to us.
Words matter because our choices matters.
Words have denotations, connotations, cultural significance, historical significance.
Words have power.
We have seen how words have been used to manipulate, violate, assault, denigrate, and oppress.
We have also seen how words have been used to elevate, console, form, connect, and save.
Words have tremendous power.
As a wise one once said, power comes with responsibility, and we have all seen the pain and hurt that comes with using words irresponsibly. We can all think of times when we have used words irresponsibly and times when we've seen those in power misuse words and be faced with significant consequences.
In a world where we are often limited to 280 characters, it is more important than ever to acknowledge the power of words and to choose them well.
So today, as I stood in the sun and looked and listened, I saw and heard some words that held great power, power that I believe is working towards positive change.
"Every vote counts, because every person counts."
"As if the words make the science any less true."
"I am the wilderness."
"Only knowledge erases fear."
"Don't let anyone else steal your narrative."
We all have stories, and as I've written on this blog, we need stories now. So today I'm ruminating on my narrative. I'm trying to choose the precise words, to give power to the words, and to let the words speak the truth and work towards goodness. I hope you'll do the same.
Tell your story. Take control of your narrative. Choose your words. Choose words that are the most precise words. Choose words that are true. Choose words that use your story to create and to grow rather than to shame or to regret. Choose your words. Take control of your narrative. Tell your story.
Words matter.
We need your stories now.
**And thank you to Sydney for recognizing in the moment that the words heard today needed to be recorded.
Monday, January 15, 2018
Do Something Beautiful for the World
Today we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Many of us are off from work or school, and so we have a day to ourselves, to pursue whatever calls to us, or whatever tasks we didn't quite get completed this weekend. I plan to work on Reliance; in fact, I'm practically bursting with story!
And yet, perhaps today we could also spend some time doing something positive for the world. I realize that by the time you read this post, it may be late in the day and so too late to plan a large-scale project, but I don't think it takes large-scale projects to make the world a better place.
Sure, the world is in need of major positive impacts. Next weekend I will be volunteering with a group of friends to work on a Habitat for Humanity house. I'm so excited for this day, not only because I love getting my hands dirty for the improvement of others, but also because I took a Stagecraft class back in college when I was majoring in English but also working in the theatre, and I haven't used those skills in a while!
But there are so many smaller ways we can make positive change, and I encourage you to take part in one of them today. Perhaps you could write a note to a friend, a family member, or even a mere acquaintance who may be in need of encouragement. Take a container of hot cocoa and marshmallows to the family next door. Pay for the meal of the person behind you if you go out to eat. Go through your trash and pull out the recyclables, then put them in that blue container you use to collect leaves in the fall (the one with the recycling symbol on it). Go for a walk and meditate on this beautiful creation all around you, and consider what part you play. Make cards and drop them off at a hospice house nearby. Sit on the couch with your child or a friend, and watch that movie you've been meaning to get to. Spend time together.
A couple of years ago on parent-teacher conference day, I had back to back parent conferences where the parents told me that their children had a passion for the arts or humanities, but that they had told the children that the only career path they would support was in engineering. Really, this happened, back to back. I was so frustrated and also insulted as clearly they had no qualms in implying that my career, or one like it, was not acceptable for their children. When the third conference began, I was demoralized, to say the least. And yet, the first question out of these parents' mouths was, "Our daughter loves creative writing. What can we do to encourage her and help her get better at it?" This family went on to tell me that part of their children's allowance each week depended on the children "making something beautiful for the world". One was a creative writer, one wrote original songs on the guitar...you see where we're going with this. They gathered as a family on Sunday evenings to share their contributions to the world. When I heard this story, I was overcome. And I will never, ever forget that conference or that student. She was one of the happiest students I've ever known.
Today, make something beautiful for the world. Make the world a little better because you're here. Leave a positive impact on this day. You can do it, even in small ways. And perhaps this practice will teach us all to use our gifts to make the world even more inspirational.
And yet, perhaps today we could also spend some time doing something positive for the world. I realize that by the time you read this post, it may be late in the day and so too late to plan a large-scale project, but I don't think it takes large-scale projects to make the world a better place.
Sure, the world is in need of major positive impacts. Next weekend I will be volunteering with a group of friends to work on a Habitat for Humanity house. I'm so excited for this day, not only because I love getting my hands dirty for the improvement of others, but also because I took a Stagecraft class back in college when I was majoring in English but also working in the theatre, and I haven't used those skills in a while!
But there are so many smaller ways we can make positive change, and I encourage you to take part in one of them today. Perhaps you could write a note to a friend, a family member, or even a mere acquaintance who may be in need of encouragement. Take a container of hot cocoa and marshmallows to the family next door. Pay for the meal of the person behind you if you go out to eat. Go through your trash and pull out the recyclables, then put them in that blue container you use to collect leaves in the fall (the one with the recycling symbol on it). Go for a walk and meditate on this beautiful creation all around you, and consider what part you play. Make cards and drop them off at a hospice house nearby. Sit on the couch with your child or a friend, and watch that movie you've been meaning to get to. Spend time together.
A couple of years ago on parent-teacher conference day, I had back to back parent conferences where the parents told me that their children had a passion for the arts or humanities, but that they had told the children that the only career path they would support was in engineering. Really, this happened, back to back. I was so frustrated and also insulted as clearly they had no qualms in implying that my career, or one like it, was not acceptable for their children. When the third conference began, I was demoralized, to say the least. And yet, the first question out of these parents' mouths was, "Our daughter loves creative writing. What can we do to encourage her and help her get better at it?" This family went on to tell me that part of their children's allowance each week depended on the children "making something beautiful for the world". One was a creative writer, one wrote original songs on the guitar...you see where we're going with this. They gathered as a family on Sunday evenings to share their contributions to the world. When I heard this story, I was overcome. And I will never, ever forget that conference or that student. She was one of the happiest students I've ever known.
Today, make something beautiful for the world. Make the world a little better because you're here. Leave a positive impact on this day. You can do it, even in small ways. And perhaps this practice will teach us all to use our gifts to make the world even more inspirational.
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