Sharktoof
Hi, fam.
It’s been a quieter week, with merciful weather and things to do. I’ve been feeling foggy, trying to establish a workout routine and feeling more tired and sore than energized in this “starting over period.”
I’m sure you’ve seen all the bombs falling “over there.” Desperation abounds. And while the loss of life is with me, and the damage befalling our beautiful planet, I’ve still napped and laughed and appreciated this life.
But this coming week, I know I’ll need quiet. Contemplation and solitude. I think my heart needs some of that deep listening that’s so rare in our time. It’s a good thing. A metal sling cleaning, if you will.
Anyhoops—the structure:
Writing: Revision tracking on my novel, Salt Moon, about which some of you might care, but mostly it’s an accountability booster for me; Submissions, to magazines and awards, if I ever do such a thing; and/or new prose or poetry mostly made during my beloved Northampton Literary Society (Litso) writing meet-ups each Thursday.
Teaching: Something I learned once or recently, that I would like to teach you about now. The advice you never asked for, really.
Community: Observations big and small to help increase connection amongst the unending deluge of tragic events we uncover daily.
Shall we?
Writing
No revisions this week. Grading essay drafts and trying to finish the semester with some semblance of presence. Emily and I did do a productivity hang on Wednesday, but I ended up staring into space and drinking Guinness for most of it.
Litso was nuts on Thursday. We were placed in a more open area than our usual basement womb of the community room. The space on the second floor was prettier, with great windows, but also adjacent to a live jazz concert that served us with fits of distraction. We did our best, and those in attendance will surely never forget it. I wrote a full page of nonsense and complaints about the noise, but did come up with a dinky little poem from our word bank:
Uncle Jack has his heart set on a wedding.
We can’t elope.
Instead, let’s skedaddle to the trampoline.
Jump over the fence, the maple, the orange peel clouds
and land (ouch!)
listless and withering among the daffodils.
Why does every species but ours
seem to burst forth
with life--flash!--and die?
While we climb into the crater
of fights that don’t matter,
the unforgettable dog has been breaking
down into earth for years.
Only trees are ancient enough to hold the resting sparrow
withstand all weather
a marriage of roots and branches, all reaching.
Teaching/Community
Just a few thoughts on kindness.
Other’s struggles may just = nothing you could ever imagine.
I remember when my nephew was diagnosed with autism. My brother and sister-in-law grieved hard that weekend. Baby James was only 18 months, but the path ahead was clear: this was a special boy--one who would never be “normal.” And the grief was for the life we wanted for our boy--a “normal” one.
But disability isn’t the anathema we think it is, nor is illness, nor injury, nor the “average” life with all its pettinesses. These things simply are. Some people have to work harder, to care for others before and above themselves, reprioritize. I think it’s good to think of these people every day or so. Like Chris B Writes’ article, here. Emotions take over and tell us the information. The truth. The good in the shadows.
Pretty much every time I go to the grocery store, I find someone in need of help. Catch the milk bottle before it falls on a reaching four-year-old’s head. Open the truck of the man holding two cases of seltzer with a broken hand. Return the cart to the right place. It doesn’t take long, and yes, you have to be paying attention. I do fuck-all as a global citizen, so I might as well be an aunty in these streets.
You never know what another is going through. Look up.
I don’t know. The world just keeps getting worse. But when I pray for them, ideas on how to actually help in the big picture emerge. Like my sweet teacher Rachael from Grove House Sewing Studio, who emailed just in time to tell me she’s hosting a charity sewing class for the ACLU in May.
Blessings to all and each,
Kayleigh