January book giveaway

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The newsletter should arrive in your inboxes on Thursday, and with it comes the return of the monthly book giveaway for U.S. subscribers. This month I’m giving away Leif Enger’s newest book, Virgil Wander, which is a warm, funny, life-nurturing story about a man who loses his memory and much of his language in an accident, and what happens when he starts to put it all back together. It’s one of my favorite books I read last year and I think it’s a lovely way to start off a new year.

All the details and how to enter in the January newsletter!

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"we should consider..."

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Spending a little time with William Stafford on his (rainy) birthday.

~ “Everyone is a conscientious objector to something. Are there things you wouldn’t do? Well.”

~ “Here’s how to count the people who are ready to do right: “One.” “One.” “One.”

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

“…And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider -

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;

the signals we give - yes or no, or maybe -

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.”

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for a new season

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Here we are, seven days into the new decade/new year and I’m arriving kind of rumpled and sleepy-eyed to the after-party.

I didn’t make any real resolutions, or choose a word for this year. I appreciate the gifts of the Gregorian calendar and how it helps us organize a complex society, but I’m kind of over it, personally, if you know what I mean, these arbitrary blocks of time. I’m thinking more in terms of seasons and what this current one (rain and mud, seed catalogs, rumors of war) is saying to me right now.

There’s a note on the bulletin board over my desk which says, “Humanize everything .” I put it there when I was in the middle of a tricky part in one of my novels and have now forgotten exactly why I did. But it caught my eye again the other day and stuck with me.

Whatever it meant all those months ago, now it has me thinking about the people who are hidden from me on any given day. Elderly people alone in their houses, disabled adults in their foster homes, prisoners in their cells, textile workers at their machines, people unloading boxes in warehouses, cleaning my hotel room when I’m out having lunch, washing acres of sheets and towels in fluorescent-lit basements, digging minerals out of the ground for my cellphone/computer, growing bananas on corporate-owned plantations, dismembering chickens in the horror of slaughterhouses, sleeping in doorways, picking up garbage, cutting down trees, worrying about bombs, watching coastlines erode or homes burn, and so many more I don’t even know to consider.

I want to think about people right now, and how to live together like neighbors. I want to give to some new places, listen to some new stories, humanize everything.

There’s a design principle that runs along the lines of “Ask WHY five times.” I’m thinking I should be asking “WHO, WHO, WHO, WHO, WHO?” every day.

Get under the surface, is what I’m saying.

Then there’s the very serious work of promoting beauty in a time of ugliness. And hope in a time of cynicism. And tenderness in a time of talons.

All that to say, I took a walk in the rain the other day and found, like always, that it wasn’t raining as much on the trail as it seemed to be from inside my house.

To help myself, I started taking pictures again. Just a snapshot every day. ( I’m posting them here , very quietly, if you want to see them. )

It would seem that laughter is slightly more necessary right now. Also naps with cats.

I did make one resolution - I think you will understand this - and it is to only consider criticism and complaint from people who are truly invested in me personally.

Which leads to consideration of the inverse of this as well, shrinking my justifiable complaints and criticisms significantly.

Basically what I’m saying is, by any calendar, this season of rain and mud, seed catalogs, and rumors of war seems to be asking for brave seeing and reckless hope and that’s enough to keep me busy for quite a long time.

I’d love to hear your new words/thoughts/hopes for the new year (or this season, if you prefer.) Feel free to share!

peace keep you,

tonia

(unexpectedly) merry and bright

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“There is a sense in which love’s truth is proved by its end, by what it becomes in us, and what we, by virtue of love, become.” ~ Christian Wiman

Today:

A text from my love: “Don’t listen today, okay?” He guards my peace.

Trip to the coffee shop, instead. Early, so the phone-call workers and the mommy-groups and the counseling pastor are not there yet. Writing music in my headphones blending with coffee shop music to make a kind of white noise. Decaf latte. Write.

Later, at the end of the table, an elderly man, spotted head shining under the lights, unfolds a large mat and unpacks two decks of Magic: the Gathering cards. He is teaching a young blond woman game strategy, flipping over cards, explaining enchantments. I look twice to make sure I understand what is happening. Yes, he is the teacher. I snap a picture of him surreptitiously, delighted.

A man walks in. Middle aged, handsome, well-dressed. I make a note of his boots for my husband. He is meeting a girl in the back corner. They talk, and next time I glance at them they have taken little piles of yarn and knitting needles out of their bags and she shows him how to knit, then purl, then begin a new color. They are laughing, he is proud of his progress.

For a few moments I am proud too.

Beautiful, unexpected world, thank you for being lovely today.

Hope your day is unexpectedly merry and bright too, friends.

Peace keep you,

tonia

(Btw, the newsletter goes out today. Look for it in your inbox and pass it along if you think it might encourage someone else!)