Fuel for Writing

This post originates at Red Sofa Literary. The agent I’m working with for a new book project posed this question for her agency’s annual NaNoWriMo series: Did you choose writing or did writing choose you? I had to think awhile on this.  Why do I write, day after day, word after word?  Did I actually choose it, or … Continue reading Fuel for Writing

Superior

I picked up a stone the other day on a rocky beach and all at once I was a part of something bigger than myself; something sacred.   How does the earth always know how to remind me I am made of the same stuff as stars and water and rocks and all the other … Continue reading Superior

Song of the Tribes

Someone shared this poem, by Patricia Monaghan, in a group I facilitate, and I keep reading it over and over again.

The Old Song of the Tribes

The sky draws its curtain
across the season. Any day
now it will snow, curtaining

the footprints in the soft earth
we made today, but any day in this life
or another, if I meet you, the earth’s

pull will be upon us, the mark of the forest
will be on us, indelible handprints, birthmarks.
We will know each other in city or forest,

despite continents and oceans, we will know
each other as much, as little as
we know ourselves, as much as we know

what the mind is, what the body
can be. Amidst
all the changing, our souls will remain
true to each other. The rest can be mist.

Continue reading “Song of the Tribes”

Encounters With Hummingbirds

When I sat down to write a blog post today, I was going to write about this encounter I had with a hummingbird last week.  I was going to tell you how I had just stepped outside after dealing with some issues with our health insurance policy, issues that made me feel uncomfortable and required a phone call to sort them, and how I was reminded of the bigger picture of what’s truly important by watching a tiny bird flit around the wildflowers that cover the hillside behind my house.  I was going to tell you how the hummingbird eventually flew up to where I was standing with my coffee and hovered directly in front of my face, just inches from my nose as we looked each other in the eye, one creature to another.   It was going to be an illustration of finding the beauty that hovers even in the midst of dealing with undesirable things, like health insurance.

And as I started to think about what to write,  all I could think about was my privilege as a white person in this country.  I could have opted to simply describe my encounter with that hummingbird, keep my focus on the beauty of nature around my home, and move through my days giving thanks for what I have.   And there’s nothing wrong with doing those things.  But that’s the definition of privilege: to opt out of thinking or talking about something because you can.   There IS something wrong with not talking about what needs to be talked about.  Hummingbirds, nature, and gratitude are important.  So are basic human rights, peace, and changing our cultural story.

If you haven’t seen the news lately,  white supremacists held a rally in Charlottesville, Virginia over the weekend, people were hurt, lives were lost, and the continued ugliness of what is still happening in the world in regards to race and equality has been slammed back into focus yet again.   Continue reading “Encounters With Hummingbirds”