Many thanks to the Menomonee Falls WI Public Library! The whole gang recently hosted me for a virtual author talk.
Coming up with a whole new talk about a groundbreaking novel is TOUGH. Especially when the advertised topics are Politics and Religion. A record crowd signed up.
I plotted. Outlined. Planned. Practiced. AND RAMBLED ALL OVER THE FREAKING PLACE.
I was nervous. Sweaty. Not put together.
Nervous sweaty not-put-togetherness is where creations germinate stretch grow thrive become.
I look forward to what The Evangelicals: A Novel and its corresponding talk continue to become.
What’s it like to be a writer? THIS. THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE.
I made this video as part of my writer-in-residence virtual studio talk when I was at NES Artist Residency in Skagaströnd, Iceland. Because of Covid, we couldn’t hold open studios for the public. I look forward to creating in that woody room snuggled beneath a snow-blanketed roof.
MTM and I have spent every Christmas since 2003 in this building, the same room, two windows near the top over my left shoulder. The pandemic means I’m not sharing this update from our cozy Montreal retreat. While I mourn the lapse in our seventeen year streak, staying home with the door closed is a generous gift for humanity.
This year, please stay home for the holiday. Because not sharing a potentially fatal disease with anyone is the best present we can give.
And to Montreal’s Hotel Gault: We will be back next year. Fully vaccinated and ready to celebrate.
Merry Merry Joy Joy from MTM and me to YOU and YOURS!
And here’s to a boring, sane 2021.
Nothing hits my inner control freak harder than attempting an upside down yoga pose.
My arms aren’t meant for balance. I don’t like my head close to the floor. Every time I raise my leg, I imagine crashing into a piece of furniture, maybe breaking my neck.
I have practiced one-legged downward facing dog pose daily for almost three years.
Because it scares me.
We are the sum of our experiences. If we avoid everything we fear, we shrink go backwards atrophy stop growing. I contort myself into this pose every day to force myself to cede control, to realize I control nothing beyond this vessel, this body, the responses of this soul.
After my time as writer-in-residence at NES Artist Residency, MTM and I had almost a week to tour an empty Iceland.
We drove the entire Ring Road from north to east to south to west. Climbed a black volcano in Myvatn. Stood at the top of a thundering Dettifoss, the only two people there. Explored an architectural basalt chasm as snow whispered around us. Spent a night in an authentic Icelandic lodge. Caught multiple glimpses of Vatnajökull, Iceland’s largest glacier. Slept in a glass-roofed cabin at the foot of slumbering Helka volcano. Met lots of sheep.
I haven’t shared many pictures because I don’t know how to frame the experience. I told several of my friends being there felt like the Rapture happened, and nobody understood what that meant.
The Rapture is the belief in some Christian circles that Jesus Christ will appear in the clouds near the end of the world. In the blink of an eye, he will pluck true believers, living and dead, into the heavens and take them to glory, leaving lost souls to destroy the earth.
Iceland was Rapture-quality empty. No camper vans or RVs. Few cars. Vistas trails waterfalls beaches to ourselves.
We found this waterfall after a bumpy trip along a rutted dirt road. Rain blackens basalt and causes glacial meltwater to shimmer aquamarine. We stood rooted to this spot, happy to be left behind.
2020 has taken much from humanity. Financial devastation. Needless loss of life. Long-term consequences from a novel illness we still don’t understand.
Half of United States citizens are neutered of empathy. Selfishness reigns everywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed in humanity.
Every day, I remind myself that 2020 made me whole.
It showed me where I was professionally stuck. Forced me to take calculated risks. Made me dig deeper for truth, both in my writing and in the broader world. Revealed which souls are worth my time and energy. Gave me permission to set boundaries, jettison toxicity, say no.
As we look toward 2021, practice reminding yourself that you are whole. Because you are whole, dear soul. You really, truly are.
7 Comments
Hawks, ravens, eagles, elk, deer, herons, coyotes, chickadees, seagulls, sand, ocean, mountains, and family all remind me that I am whole and that the sum of my parts is greater that who I can be alone.
You have such beautiful views out your way. Hope you were able to see the conjunction.
“Half of United States citizens are neutered of empathy. Selfishness reigns everywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed in humanity.”
This is exactly how I’ve felt this year, although I continue to believe that compassion and unconditional love for others will someday reign with the majority of Americans. It’s my “rainbow and unicorn” hope for the country as soon as everyone learns the true meaning of resilience and loving our neighbors, and stop being whiny babies.
I’ve admired your dedication to yoga, Andra. Keep going! I don’t think there are poses that scare me but, rather, a pose or two that my body hates. That’s the thing though, to keep at it even when we don’t want to. Makes us stronger, right?
Like you, I hope for sanity and empathy. Then I talk to someone in that camp and lose hope again. It is impossible to persuade those determined to live in an alternate reality. Someday, a few may grasp how they were manipulated to keep an unworthy few in power.
I just practiced when I didn’t want to. Ha. Then I added another class. I always feel better after yoga. Sounds like it’s the same for you. Do you have a favorite pose, one that feels like home?
My favorite is pigeon, followed by warrior 2. I find pigeon to be my home, but warrior 2 always gives me the feeling of power.
I also love pigeon. I melt into the mat. ?
Yes, me too!
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