Things Were Not Better Then, Get Out and Vote

From the family archives: me in yellow, my baby brother (we are both adopted), and my two older cousins (with the oldest devil on his knees to make for not too much height discrepancy!) at this time of year in the mid-1960's.

We tend to romanticize our childhoods. The "things were better then" mode of believing.

I became an American Studies major because of my love for what I believed was the promise offered by this country, a belief I held in spite of many political arguments with my Dad, 5+ political assassinations, numerous racial killings, Wounded Knee, Kent State, no Title IX or other equal rights and protections for women and gay people, and one presidential resignation due to criminal activity all occurring during my childhood.

I have always believed in the as-yet unfulfilled promise of a Constitution which might hold many diverse immigrants together under a rule of law, seeking the most benefit for the most people; a promise that one day might offer reparations to the indigenous people from whom our colonizing ancestors stole this land and the African people they enslaved for profit.

I fell in love with FDR and Eleanor because through their belief in investing in people through the common good of government they pulled this nation from the worst economic depression ever, one suffered through by my teen parents and grandparents, a depression created by those who would seek to inflate profits at the expense of others.

Things weren't "better then" no matter how securely some of us were lucky to be held by our families and our privilege.

We have had to struggle for women and people of all colors to be respected and to have equal rights -- and we are still in the middle of those struggles, as this year's election makes all too clear.

We have had to struggle to counter the violence on which the country was founded, a struggle that continues today in the form of regulations to reduce gun violence.

We have had to struggle to ensure everyone has food on their plate, a secure place to live, and equal access to education, struggles that continue to exist today with our public education structures under fire and corporate profiteering. That we have allowed "real estate" to become a bank for too many -- as if any of us can own this planet -- hurting those with the least among us.

Through it all, I am still that American Studies scholar and lover of this nation. But now we are again afflicted by something that has haunted our entire history -- a type of hateful divisiveness and lust for unchecked power that would we have put to bed generations ago.

You can call it human nature. I like to be more precise, and call it white patriarchal colonialist culture, referencing those who are still trying to keep power and riches to themselves at any cost, spewing hate at anyone not meeting their standards for "who is an american."

We are all Americans, and we are all going to vote.

Please do not say you love me and then vote for people who will remove my rights as a woman or a gay person. Please do not say you support my work and then wonder if a woman is strong enough to be our President.

Please vote for the people who want to welcome those in need in ways that make sense for our communities; for those who want to end, not instigate, violence; for those who believe in government by, for, and of the people; for those who show love and respect for all.

These principles are my American heritage, one of which I remain proud.

And because I #votemyvalues, next week I will be voting for the first woman for President of the U.S.

How about you?

The Depressions of Elections

Every presidential election year I fall into the same hole.

What depresses me is not that an offensive, incompetent man has chosen to run for the highest and most important position in our democracy.

They've been doing that for decades and until we tell them to stop, at the ballot box, they will continue.

It's that almost 50% of the public are willing to support such men, their words, and their behaviors.

Help me out here, friends.

Where have we failed as a country so that, for so many, ethical behavior -- right speech and right action, words and actions that show generosity, empathy, and compassion for others -- no longer matters?

As a people, instead of rising toward an ever more inclusive and caring society that spreads prosperity for all, we degrade ourselves and our children.

As a culture, mainstream white america seems to insist on the cheap. We insist cost is all that matters. We pursue money over quality of life. We reduce life to money. In our myopic focus, we are willing to sacrifice each other and the planet to pursue what we feel entitled to. We do not hold life, including the food we eat, sacred. We will eat whatever cheap food to which our bodies have become addicted, no matter how bad it might be for us, no matter how the creation of this fake food itself is killing our planet.

We are struggling with addictions we do not name and for which we do not care. And still, there remain those who are food insecure.

Fewer and fewer of us go to church to lift ourselves above the daily grind, to help us practice putting others before ourselves. And even for some who do go to church, the "prosperity gospel" encourages those people to put themselves and financial gain above others. Catholic Cardinal Timothy Dolan recently sat beside candidate Trump and laughed while he used profanity to demean others. WTF.

Our families have been broken -- not by women's insistence on working and having our own lives, but on men's inability to handle that and on their subsequent absence. Fact: not enough men show up for their children. This is not a single mother problem. It is an absent men problem.

Our schools can't tell the difference between separation of church and state and values-based education. Teachers are like salmon swimming upstream to their deaths from exhaustion, fighting a battle no one of them individually can win.

Our problems in this country are systemic, and cultural. They are deeply rooted in this nation's violent history and the cultures of our progenitors. When we solve our problems, we do it together, not as individuals.

At the end of the day, how can we convince those who are so afraid -- afraid they will lose the little power they have, afraid of those who do not look like them or speak their language, afraid of what real education might bring to the lives of their children and to the world they will then create, afraid of our own accountability for destruction of the planet -- that if we choose, we have an abundance in which we can hold each other, without exceptions, with tenderness, care, protection?

I am and will always vote for those who know that politics, and good government, are about setting models for behavior. The polis is and always has been a common area in the middle where we come together from our different perspectives to jointly solve our problems. And yes, we are all flawed. We all make mistakes. How we handle those mistakes is a big part of leadership.

We can never each get all that we individually want and we need to stop trying because it is those attempts -- based on a belief each of us is deserving to have life exactly as WE want it -- that are killing us, and our planet.

Leadership is a sacred trust: stop defaming it. Stop cheapening it.

Most of all, stop supporting those who do.

End of October rant. Thank you to those who listened!

The Universe's Light is Always Moving

There are many times the universe sheds light on important matters in unexpected ways.

Our bodies are meant to move, my friend Meg Dellenbaugh, a bodywork and movement therapist, always told me. They are machines geared toward movement, with joints and ligaments the pistons and gears and the heart and lung the engine.

They are not meant to sit in front of desks and screens day and night.

Yet this is the culture we built. And then all of us wonder why we are literally "sick and tired."

At the "cancer cathedral" this week for my partner's penultimate treatment, talking to the doc about fatigue.

She repeated something she has said several times: in order to have energy, you need to fill up the tank. And the way you fill up the tank is to move. It is to condition your body. While this also expends energy, it fills up the tank in a way that is absolutely required.

And so it's a Catch-22, my friends: when in pain - move. When tired - move. This is when it is both most difficult and most necessary.

I think, in the way we have built our culture, that most of us need to be re-conditioned! This is just one of the many reasons why our fishermen do not want to give up their way of life. They move all day, living in their bodies on the water. Is it also destructive of these same bodies? It can be. We wear out. But what the hell are we saving ourselves for?

I am so lucky for the dogs, for long walks every day, for a childhood of sports that taught me to love gyms and bikes and movement.

I hope you are, too. Go out and wear your body out today. Use your body up. That's what it's here for.

#bodymechanics
#movementismedicine
#reconditioning

Cross Creek

Just when we think every square acre of Florida has been developed into an active community for people 55 years of age or older -- which includes myself -- I spot a sign for the Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Heritage Park and make a dangerous U-Turn in front of a semi so we can visit.

Do you remember the book-worse-than-Bambi, The Yearling? I do, vividly.

The Yearling, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings' best seller, was published in 1938 and won the Pulitzer Prize in 1939. My mother Mae was 15. My birth mother, Jeanine, would not be born for another three years.

Rawlings lived in and wrote about Florida's "Big Scrub" -- now the Ocala National Forest, which is filled with longleaf pine sandhills, hammocks of evergreen oaks, and all manner of critters that creep, crawl, and roam through four wilderness areas. Outside of these wilderness areas, the forest has been logged but remains "one of North Florida's last-remaining traces of forested land."

Rawlings wrote, "There is no human habitation—there never has been and probably never will be—in the scrub itself...a vast wall, keeping out the timid and the alien."

Although born in Washington, D.C., the college educated journalist Rawlings fell in love with the Big Scrub, purchased 70 acres of land and a modest house, and moved when she was 32, living there full time for 13 years. She died of a cerebral hemorrhage in St. Augustine, Florida, her home with her second husband, when she was only 57. She was by all accounts a tough, strong willed old broad who kept dogs and gamecocks, went hunting and fishing, and, like all writers, preferred long periods of solitude.

Her writing, much like that of downeast Maine's Ruth Moore, has been castigated (mostly by white men a.k.a. "the dominant culture") as "regional," to which Rawlings retorted that people's lives everywhere and of all kinds have larger meanings than "quaintness."

Here's to rural living, rural writing, women writing, and the preservation of the wild places on our planet.

#bigscrub

#ruralflorida

#mywritinglife

Ethical Storytelling, Ethical Living: Give Us More

On Friday, January 12 -- just before the entire nation was again plunged into cruel and damaging winter weather, freezing in the Midwest and flooding here, in the Northeast -- I was honored to participate in a panel discussion on Ethical Storytelling. 

Curious about what role ethical storytelling might play in a country in which the leading Republican candidate for President has been proven to consistently lie? Read on.

The discussion was a grand finale to the University of Southern Maine's 10-day winter residency for the Stonecoast Creative Writing MFA program, serving over 50 MFA candidates. The panel was moderated by author David Anthony Durham, many of whose nine novels generously provide us with Black-centered histories of the Civil War, the colonization of the west, etc.; and in addition to me included Chinese-American queer poet Chen Chen and choreopoet scholar and artist Monica Prince.

Chen Chen

I was privileged to be the old white queer on this esteemed panel.

For all four of us, ethical storytelling invites some sort of active response.

The world is always in need of repair, and our writing serves nothing if it ignores that.

David Anthony Durham

Or, as in a quote from author Sigrid Nunez recently sent to me by my beloved, "And Beckett was right; Eloquence about disaster will not do."

I extrapolated my (shared) philosophy of working to improve performance in everyday life through improving our creative crafts -- a philosophy that arises from the discipline of Performance Studies, and was thus at the heart of our mission at Opera House Arts in Stonington. In short: if we better understand and practice the craft of ethical storytelling, the better citizens we become.

Monica Prince

We tell stories about ourselves and others all the time.

It doesn't have to be gossip to be swapping stories on someone.  And especially in our common realm of politics -- the place to which we bring our differences to create solutions to shared problems, such as climate change -- how can we practice a set of ethics that do no harm?

Because that is indeed my personal definition of ethical storytelling: crafting stories in any form that are not exploitative and do no harm. Stories that do not exploit others' stories; stories that do not exploit your own story; stories that do not exploit strategies, such as gratuitous violence or sex; and perhaps most importantly, stories that do not exploit one's own privilege in attempts to achieve greater fame, wealth, power or control.

As artists throughout the world are aware, perhaps the best way to get to this non-exploitative space is through the craft of listening to one's own voice not in solitude but in the context of others. Of family. Of community.

Honing a craft is a kind of intentionality: we bring our full consciousness to it. What if we considered these four points as we hone our crafts of storytelling, whether on the page or stage or in meetings, classrooms, family discussions?

• Listening 
• Honest response
• Consent
• Accountability

These are actually four practices in the art of improvisation as well -- and really, isn't everything about our lives improvised in response to someone or something else?

The practice of "honest response" exposes my belief that truth and honesty are distinct from each other.

Truth is, as German-Jewish political theorist Hannah Arendt so beautifully noted, is created and understood between us. This is why it is so fragile.

Honesty, on the other hand, is the individual practice of creating the truth between us. It has much to do with the intentionality we bring to craft, and a kind of sincerity, an adherence to the facts AS WE KNOW THEM that in turn creates fairness and straightforwardness in our conduct.

And so my four points of ethical storytelling: listen; practice honest response; gain consent; and practice accountability for who you are, what you do, and what your impact is on those around you.

Chen Chen, Monica, and David all amplified these in their own beautiful words as well.

Chen Chen was especially eloquent on the art of deep listening: don't hesitate to check out both of their two poetry volumes. David, who has written a number of historical and fantasy novels, was very interested in how ethical storytelling relates to our actions in the world. And Monica, who practices the art of choreopoetry introduced to the world by Ntozake Shange in her 1975 play, "for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf", caring for each other as we perform is at the heart of the form.

I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to reflect on this vital topic alongside these esteemed colleagues for a group of young writers seeking their MFA's in Creative Writing.

How does ethical storytelling play a role in your own life? #giveusmore

#newblogpost

#ethicalstorytelling

#stonecoast

#stonecoastwriterscenter

#mainewriters