We need a clearing in the forest...
Or how I spent the first month (and most of the second month) of the new year pondering the idea of resolutions.
On the second day of this even-numbered year, I went to the beach with my mom. The waves were huge and the sand was all tugged away from the shore. There were fragments of worn shells everywhere — bits and pieces so tumbled and smooth, that all their dark and light layers were revealed at once. Gulls stomped around at the edge of the tide, their big white bodies caught in the sheen of water. The world was reflecting back the world.
We walked a little bit, but not too much because the ground was uneven and we were tired. It felt really, really good to just stand still and let the sun sink into our bodies. It felt good to have all these wings and waves and rolling rocks in motion. It felt good to understand that we didn’t have to be in motion, too.
I’d spent much of the prior year jamming along until, in mid October, I was stopped in my tracks by the much dreaded (and until this point, magically evaded) SARS-Co-V2 virus. Covid sent me straight to bed and kept me there for ten days. I drank gallons of hot tea, ate a fair amount of toast, and watched the very excellent Endeavour on PBS “Mystery.” (I’m still slowly making my way through the last seasons of this luxurious British mystery, achy at the thought of leaving the company of serious, dreamy, drinky Morse and his commanding officer, the ever sturdy, Fred Thursday.)
All that time in my bed prompted me to consider the ideas of REST and ACTION and how I might add a little intention to both in the new year.
Here’s what worked for me in JANUARY and the first couple of weeks of FEBRUARY:
I read Matthew Zapruder’s gorgeous memoir, “Story of a Poem.” There is so much to love about this intimate story of parenting and writing. I underlined so many passages and know I will return, again and again, to this book for inspiration.
“More and more often,” Zapruder writes, “I think the rare treasure I gather in writing poems is the awareness I would not have without writing them. Can that state of awareness be communicated through a poem? Can the poem be a secret machine, carried on a little scrap of paper or hidden in the mind, so one can always have a place to reset, to resist?”
I accompanied my dear pal, Sarah, to screenings of “Until The End of the World” and “Wings of Desire.” Wim Wenders is the king of slowed time and increased focus. (Until the End of the World is FIVE hours long!) It had been years (and years) since I’d seen these films and I’d forgotten much of their beauty and humor and tenderness.
I spent one whole Saturday sitting and walking in mediation at an Insight LA workshop focused on the teaching of Burmese monk, Sayadaw U Tejaniya. It’s a practice that defines mediating as “Acknowledging and observing whatever happens — whether pleasant or unpleasant — in a relaxed way.” Our teacher LC Tran encouraged us to sit comfortably. “Don’t try to create anything,” she said, “and don’t reject what is happening.”
I’d been interested in learning more about this practice because back in 2014, I travelled to Myanmar. The country was, in turns, one of the most serene and most chaotic places I’ve ever visited. Since the February 1, 2021 military coup (less than a month after our own Capitol was attacked on January 6th,) when members of the democratically elected ruling party were deposed by the Tatmadaw, over 6,000 civilians have been killed and tens of thousands more have been arrested. You can learn more about this by checking out the hashtag #whatishappeninginmyanmar If you are in Los Angeles, you can try delicious Burmese food at Bagan Burmese Kitchen or order from the pop-up kitchen, Burmese Please.
I thought of Tran’s advice when I headed to Kansas City for the 2024 AWP Conference — this massive gathering of writers can be quite daunting if you are trying to create something, but if you move through it with an openness to what IS happening, it can be super fun. I participated on a panel with fellow caregivers, met some truly wonderful people, ate some delicious barbecue and came home with new reading material and a warm feeling about the state of the written word. I felt truly delighted when KC won that big game and, a few days later, truly heartbroken when bullets tore through their celebration.
Here’s a great place to learn more about candidates who support gun control.
There is so much sadness in our world. Much as I want to, I know I can’t fix it. All I can do is acknowledge it and try not to add to it.
You can donate here to Doctors Without Borders. And here to PCRF (Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.) Or to IRC (International Rescue Committee.)
You open my heart, T, the big/small door of the big/small heart.
Thank you friend.
I love every word of this. And "Wings of Desire" is probably my very favorite film.