In-Spir-Ation
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Hello friends, I started this newsletter at the beginning of the Covid pandemic, and named it Keep Breathing. The name was partially in reference to this new, frightening illness, but also harkened back to everything I’d taught and practiced for years: To pause and take a conscious breath is to be present with what is. To pause and take a conscious breath is to open to possibility. There is life in a single breath. And there is magic. We breathe with the trees and the plants. We breathe with the stars. We breathe with every other living thing. We breathe. We create music with our breath. As a young poet, reading aloud in the cafés of Los Angeles and San Francisco, I learned to mark meter and use commas to indicate breath. I do the same now, writing fiction and other prose... My editors are amused, because my commas look like rogue markings on the page, not always following standard grammatical rules. But those commas telegraph something important: This thought pauses here, and then moves on. That character inhales here, then springs to action. And so my writing becomes a living thing, filled with the power of breath. I, and my art form, continue to breathe and be inspired. In-spir-ation. To breathe into. In-spir-ation. To be breathed into by a divine source. Breath. The start of magic. The origin of art. The beginning of so much of life on earth. What are you breathing into being? Best wishes - Thorn Need a break? How about a visit with corgi sleuths Klaus and Marsha?
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T. Thorn Coyle
“Pray for the dead, and fight like hell for the living.” — Mary “Mother” Harris Jones Hello friends, It’s a rainy day in Portland, Oregon. Outside my window, cars shush by on slick dark streets. Autumn leaves catch the moisture from the sky as fluffy squirrels dart about, preparing for the coming cold. Last night, we made dinner, setting out a plate for the ancestors. We lit up a giant Jack O’Lantern on the porch, to beckon any spirits wandering by, ready to appease them with treats, should...
Hello friends, On a walk in the soft rain of the atmospheric river that just arrived to the Pacific Northwest, I saw two small maple trees whose leaves had already turned orange-red. Some of the maples in the neighborhood are still green, or just turning yellow, but these two were in full autumnal celebration mode. So, of course I walked across the street to get a closer look. When I looked up, I was delighted at the display. The leaves looked like ethereal dancers, turning this way and that,...
Hello friends, I was at a magical event with old friends and new last weekend, in the woods of Northern California. In some parts of space were big hearts made of slate slabs. The thing I liked about these hearts were that: Being made of slate, the hearts could support weight. Someone had taken the time and effort to carve the shapes. The hearts had clearly been nestled in the earth for years, greeting everyone who walked by. All of this was a reminder to me that a little inspiration and...