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I’m Heartbroken for Our Country: Everyday Magic, Day 954

Yesterday, a woman spoke with great poise, integrity, and courage about how she was terrified that the supreme court nominee would accidentally kill her when he put his hand over her mouth while sexually assaulting her. Dr. Christine Blasey Ford told a room full of career politicians and also our nation and world about the attack and trauma that derailed her life when she was only 16 years old, a moment when two men’s laughter — with all its scorn and privilege — landed in her psyche in a way she could never forget. Recounting how a combination of Kavanaugh being drunk and her wearing a one-piece bathing suit under her clothes was all that saved her from being raped, she spoke of her survival and its cost. This she shared with a room of old white men and some women who were determined, no matter what she said, to confirm Kavanaugh, possibly right now as I’m writing this. “I am here today not because I want to be. I am terrified,” she told all of us.

I cannot fathom how anyone hearing her testimony and Kavanaugh’s smug and angry testimony (not to mention his tone and demeanor that’s not what any us, despite our political views, want in a supreme court judge) could not be moved, could not think about the women, men, and others they know who have carried the burning weight of similar trauma. I cannot imagine how any senators or representatives from Lindsey Graham to Kansas’ own Pat Roberts can vote to confirm Kavanaugh given what happened yesterday. What must it take to have siloed your own conscience in such a way that you could go the party line at the price of your own humanity?

But I can fathom what it is to carry — as I titled my book about the Holocaust — a needle in the bone — the remnant (that can’t be removed and we make a protective shield around) of being tortured, yes, truly tortured, by another human. I’ve listened to many people share their stories of sexual assault and near misses: a woman whose brother regularly raped her, a man who was date-raped, a friend who just barely made it to her car in time after a date, another who didn’t. I hear my daughter telling me how she’s cat-called almost daily in Minneapolis. I drive by frat houses where I see gaggles of young women tipsy in their high heels heading into a party. I read stories of trans people beaten close to death or murdered. I’ve heard many testimonies of middle-aged men, still ripped apart when they trip in their wounds of being sexually abused decades earlier by their priests.

The soul-stealing damage of sexual assault, whether full-on rape or almost, isn’t the kind of thing that fixes itself with ease like a minor break in young bones. It surely lands on our deepest vulnerability, registering as a threat not just to our bodies but to our lives. Other kinds of trauma born of bullies bullying also can leave life-long wounds to continually mitigate and navigate. As the daughter of a physically abusive father, I have some practice in decades of revisiting the violence done to my young body and soul, and I know that healing is, at best, a spiral path leading to resilience, not a door out of the house of our being where loose boards and broken stairs abide.

It’s a clear walk from what is happening today, this week, this time in our world to the damage that patriarchal power has wrought on women and trans people, and for that matter, men too. The notion that one gender innately has more power than another, and the reality that our culture is set up in many ways to reinforce men, and more precisely, straight white middle- or upper-class men, makes for a difficult, at times impossible, way out. If Dr. Blasey Ford’s testimony wasn’t a way into the hearts of those now ignoring her words and presence (some even while believing her), what does this say about who gets to make the rules for whom? A whole lot when it comes to the privilege some claim to cover the mouths and maybe even accidentally (or purposely) suffocate others.

So I’m heartbroken, America. I can’t believe we’re here with so many people poised to put someone on the court who clearly doesn’t see women (and perhaps others) as worthy enough to sit at the table. I’m especially thinking of all of you who have your own needles in the bone activated today, and I wish you all manner of comfort, and ways through to find your strength, tenderness, and peace.

At the same time, I know our outrage and pain isn’t going to go underground or vanish into the winds of political power. I think of a wonderful post Meghan Heriford, the owner of Lawrence’s Ladybird Diner, recently shared about a woman she was talking to after having Meg had the woman’s abusive boyfriend removed from the diner. Meg was concerned that the woman wouldn’t believe she was worthy enough to leave this man, and she reminded us us that standing together, holding those who need support, and saying no to the bullies among us is at the core of our work now.  “Poke a sister and you’re likely to get the whole swarm,” Meg wrote.

My heart is buzzing. Yours too?

On the Cusp of the Days of Awe: Everyday Magic, Day 953

This pre-Rosh Hashana afternoon, as I watch a dive-bombing hummingbird and a dozen others just trying to get a drink from our feeder, my mind is on community. How we can make and keep community. What community is at its best, and how it enacts love as a verb. Why breaking bread, breaking through barriers, and breaking new ground together matters, especially in a time of rough-edged divides, political name-calling, and one-size-fits-all labels  that diminish us all. I'm also thinking of awe: that sense of wonder at the shining edges and in-depth centers of the life force. From the vantage [...] Read More

I Love Driving in the County: Everyday Magic, Day 952

This week I drove 100 miles  west and back on Tuesday, then two and a half hours southeast on Thursday, mostly through rural weaves of prairie and brome field where cattle grazed or dozed while storms paraded across the vistas. Earlier in the week, it was to give the first of three Osher classes on the Holocaust  in Manhattan, Kansas, and just recently, to visit a fiction-writing class and give a reading at Pittsburg State University in the state. Taking off and going fast, or a bit slower as the rain blurred the edges of cars and trucks ahead, I [...] Read More

The Hospitality of Writing: Everyday Magic, Day 951

I've been thinking a lot lately about hospitality in relationship to both writing and self-care. As someone who loves home (and also roaming widely), and making  welcoming spaces in groups, rooms, and my little heart, I realize that there's an intimate connection between hospitality and the creative process. The more we can invite ourselves onto the page (with grace and tenderness), the more we can show up for our writing. Plus, showing up for our creative sparks is great training for being more present in our ever-shifting lives. This led me to develop "A Leap Forward Writing Retreat" for Nov., [...] Read More

Rituals of Pause as the Big Rocks in the Jar: Everyday Magic, Day 950

"Your big rocks are the rituals of pause," Dr. Neela Sandal told me a few weeks ago. I've been working with Neela for a few years to tunnel out (successfully too!) of some chronic health issues, and I had mentioned that I needed more rituals of pause through my day to check in with myself instead of checking off the next item on my endless list. I had also told him about the analogy of how you can only gets rocks, pebbles, sand, and water into a jar if you put in the big stuff first, then the smaller stuff [...] Read More

“How Aren’t You?”: Hummingbirds, Rumi, and Twilight: Everyday Magic, Day 949

In my favorite Rumi poem, "Say Yes Quickly," I love these lines especially: Reach your long hands out to another door, beyond where you go on the street, the street where everyone says, “How are you?” and no one says How aren’t you? All day long, I've been pondering how I am not. I am not at Goddard College, finishing a long day of faculty meetings after, as goes my habit, a long night of fighting my travel-spun brain to calm itself enough to tip out of consciousness. I am not walking back to the dorm to get some snacks I [...] Read More

Surprise Lilies: Everyday Magic, Day 948

Here is a poem about this moment's offering all around where I live. May this election day bring us lovely and happy surprises too.   Surprise Lilies Green shots, pink ribbons in the alley lining the dumpster or the driveway around the broken mowers, past moving out date, before school buses in the open slash between the heat that levels us and the storms on the next page of the horizon. When you don't know, when you're lost, when there's nowhere to stand there they are, never bent or expected. They thrive on what you've forgotten about, given away or [...] Read More

From Your Alley to My Kitchen: Everyday Magic, Day 947

The last few days of July are truly Christmas for All in the Alleys. Because this is a college town with a whole lot of students, too-well equipped by their fretting parents with stuff they won't use, and these students move out in a hurry when much of our rental housing turns over August 1 each year, you can shop the alleys for home and hearth this week. Sometimes I know what I'm looking for and I find it: a new vacuum, easy chair, throw pillows, or various electronic equipment which may or may not work (if broken, I return [...] Read More

I’m in Love With a Great Lake: Everyday Magic, Day 946

I'm in love with Lake Superior, and the more I visit, the deeper I fall. Not only is this the greatest of the Great Lakes, containing 10% of all the fresh water on earth, but it's wildly ancient, mysteriously mutable, and stunningly gorgeous in all its colors and moods. Having just perched on the side of the lake in a cabin for a week, once again, I saw this inland sea turn pink, gray, navy blue, baby blue, black, brown, orange at the edges at sunrise, and purple in the center at sunset. Always in motion, the waves incessant, this [...] Read More

On the Cusp of the Vacation: Everyday Magic, Day 945

I'm lucky. I get to go on a vacation, not something everyone has the privilege of doing so that they can enter into a great un-doing or other-the-usual-doings in a new or old place. For us, it's a particularly ancient place, on the cool shores of Lake Superior (truly superior!) by way of Ames, Iowa tonight, where we will luxuriate in temperatures 10 degrees cooler than the holy hell of the weather here, then Minneapolis, which is cool in multiple ways. At this moment, the car is packed except for the vitamins, which would melt. The gas tank is full. [...] Read More

Buy Your Own Copy of Everyday Magic -- This Blog As a Book!

This blog is a book -- Everyday Magic: Fieldnotes on the Mundane and Miraculous -- published by Meadowlark Press. This beautiful book, complete with beautiful art throughout by publisher Tracy Million Simmons, can be yours for $24.99. Please consider purchasing the book through the publisher to support small presses supporting authors like me. Meadowlark Press. Meadowlark Books is an Emporia, Kansas, based publisher, coming from the same town as famous newspaper publisher William Allen White. The publisher's site shares this perspective: 

We live in exciting times for authors and all artists, an era of democratization of the arts. No longer will books/music/artwork be something selected by the few and passed down to the masses. The people--our readers--will choose for themselves.

You can buy your copy from Meadowlark right here.

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