Reading List…

trees3One of the things I do lately is drive from my home in Edmonds, north of Seattle, to Olympia, to Chehalis, to Olympia, and home again. One of the things I do when I drive is schlep books around. One of the books I’ve been schlepping around (schlepping? is that right?) is Christina Baldwin’s Life’s Companion.  Here’s a passage I copied out in my own notebook (in it, she discusses the work of John Brantner, a professor at the University of Minnesota):

“Even though we have been told by saints and sages that there is a dark night, that we will lose ourselves in the woods, we may still be shocked and surprised to find ourselves there. It is part of human nature to hope that spirituality will save us from the experience, that we can combine enough luck and faith not to suffer.

“In Brantner’s worldview, not only is this not possible, it’s not desirable. He defined despair as an integral part of human maturity, an avenue of learning that should not be avoided….Despair is such a nearly universal experience among people who have chosen consciousness that you and I would do well to accept it, name it, and prepare ourselves as willingly as possible to submit to the process. ” (93)

Then, from Madeleine L’Engle, this:P1050357

“The world tempts us to draw back, tempts us to believe we will not have to take this test. We are tempted to try to avoid not only our own suffering but also that of our fellow human beings, the suffering of the world, which is part of our own suffering. But if we draw back from it…, [Franz] Kafka reminds us that ‘it may be that this very holding back is the one evil you could have avoided.’

“The artist cannot hold back; it is impossible, because writing, or any other discipline of art, involves participation in suffering, in the ills and the occasional stabbing joys that come from being part of the human drama.” (Walking on Water68-69)

 

Blog tour, continued…

I’m pleased to redirect you to Joannie Stangeland’s blog tour post — Blog Tour 2014: Snapshot — Joannie has a rich and rewarding post for us. It makes me want to go write a poem. 

Advice for Writers

I love this advice. My friend Margaret called the other day and said, basically, the same thing. While dealing with my mom’s health crisis, she told me, remember that it’s okay to feel joy, to laugh with my sisters and with mom’s grandchildren, with my daughters. It’s okay to feel.

Try to Be Alive

The most solid advice . . . for a writer is this, I think: Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

WILLIAM SAROYAN

 

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Twanoh State Park

Monday and I’m home, in my cabin, about to plunge into some writing.

But first, to tell you about my weekend.

I had a busy weekend. My three girls (all three!) went to Hood Canal with me for a family weekend. We camped at Twanoh State Park Friday night, and though we couldn’t get a campsite beyond that, it was worth all the trouble to set up, even for one night. We had a campfire and campfire food; we had a babbling brook right outside our tent. We had amazing, moss-hung trees overhead, and Hood Canal shimmering nearby.

On Saturday my sister hosted a family garage sale in nearby Allyn, Washington. My sister from Idaho was there, along with two of her kids, their spouses, and her two adorable grandchildren. My other sister’s oldest daughter and her family (more adorable children) were there. My girls and I had brought a whole box of children’s books to sell. I think I made $2 from books, but I was able to give a whole bunch of them away to my little great-nieces. I brought home more stuff than I took.

My nephew Kyle and his wife taught me to play Banana-grams. My brother-in-law not only cooked and cleaned and only talked a very, very little bit about Rush Limbaugh (“He said that you liberals would say he was crazy!”), but he also
gave me a bottle of Duck Pond Chardonnay. It was a great visit with everyone. One of our cousins dropped by — a cousin I hadn’t seen in years and years. Decades.

On Sunday we had a big dinner (more cooking and cleaning for the b-i-l), pictures, etc. There were, of course, lots and lots (and lots) of family confabs about my mom and what will happen next with her care.

I keeptrees asking for a crystal ball (re: my mother’s future), and though no one has delivered one yet, I am getting more clarity. Mom has lost a lot, the use of her left side, enjoyment of food, mystery novels, family dinners. Short term memory. But when you walk into her room, she sits up straight and her whole body seems to light up. She
may not remember your name (or she may) but she remembers you and it is a great pleasure, obviously, for her to see you.

My job is to pay attention. And to keep writing.

I guess a blog post is writing.