Picking Up Where We Left Off
Creative Block, a List, and Love
I did that thing I do where I break a hobbit habit and then I don’t pick it up again for months, sometimes even years. In this case, it was this newsletter habit and its death was the near-death experience of our dog Star, followed by house hunting, followed by purchasing and moving into a new home in a new city, followed by Residency #2 at Hamline, followed by a new neighborhood, schools, daycare, roads and bike paths and all of that.
Anyway, I am back, and like all good comebacks, just in time to give some political commentary before Nov 5. But the good news for you is that I won’t do that.
If I’m being honest this is my last ditch effort at dealing with some writer’s block. I’ve been working on a Middle-Grade mystery manuscript this semester and have a few days to crank out another 40 pages of new creative work. So before I do that, I’m doing this.
Here is a random list of things I’ve learned recently:
Feed the birds: birds are natural pest eaters (mosquitoes). They’re also nice to look at.
To read 10 books in 3-4 weeks for grad school, you must tolerate a 1.5-1.75x speed on audiobooks
Studies show that just 10 minutes spent looking at a body of water can help to reduce stress levels and increase calm. This made us almost buy a house with a nice drainage ditch, but it didn’t work out.
This doesn’t work as well if children are yelling or crying nearby (this also goes for non-children yelling and crying)
Body of Water (Not the drainage ditch)
Less is not more with pumpkins.
The Wild Robot will make you cry.
Painting walls and ceilings the same color is called color drenching.
Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
But life still carries weight amid all this creative block and decision fatigue about Halloween costumes.
On Life and its Brevity
On a very different note, I attended my Aunt’s funeral recently. She was a devout Christian, professional, and writer. She raised a beautiful family and made me buttered noodles when I slept over at her house as a kid (because I was, as they say, picky).
I watched on with my son, parents, brother and extended family as her body was laid to rest in a cemetery in Eden Prairie. It was raining, and the cousins that I played hide-and-seek with in my Aunt’s basement as children were there, carrying her casket and reading aloud the words she had written.
There are people in our lives who have always been there, and then a season comes when you start to become that person for others.
When I am procrastinating, I google C.S. Lewis quotes, because as far as my occasional cynicism about evangelical Christianity has reached, it has been unable to touch Lewis (who was Anglican, btw).
Two quotes of his always linger with me:
“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained” (The Problem of Pain) C. S. Lewis
and
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” (The Four Loves) C. S. Lewis
Lewis's words remind me of my aunt, who embodied love and vulnerability, showing us that our connections bolster us and adorn our lives with the wealth of belonging.
In her later years, my aunt was not a significant part of my life, but she was a significant part of other people’s lives—her children, her grandchildren, and her husband. She loved them fully and wished for their ultimate good, as far as it could be obtained.
Death is a complete loss, a cutting off of experiencing that person’s personhood. We sometimes see it as a mercy for those suffering or a celebration for those who believe in the hope of the afterlife. But it is not the proper order of things, it is not how things were intended to be, according to the Christian faith.
Mourning, grief, and loss are a part of the human experience. And I mean not to cheapen it by saying it is also a teacher. Grief can turn us towards those we choose to love and double down on our deposits of connection. Holding your child who only turns 10 once, and laughing with your 7-year-old having his face licked off by his dog, and seeing your 4-year-old try strawberry ice cream for the first time. Listening to your partner. Calling your parents. Texting your siblings. Lighten up the family group chat.
There is still time for more connections and more deposits. It is a risk, but it is worth it.
Now further up and further in, towards increasing word counts!
Glad you're back!