Seeking Love
|
Hello friends, “The search for love continues even in the face of great odds” the paper stapled to the battered wood of a utility pole read. I paused en route to lunch with an old friend to ponder the message. I am not certain whether the person who made the sign referred to the personal, intimate, partnership type of love, or the love of friends or family, or some other kind of love. But the reason the sign made me pause is that to me, it spoke of hope. Odds seem stacked against us. Rights eroded. Oceans rising. Lakes drained and fires raging. Neighbors being rounded up. Economic precarity only getting worse… the list, as usual, goes on. But against these great odds, there is still love. Love is a strange type of hope. Love is a promise: We are all connected, whether we like it or not, and we always shall be. Every long time activist I’ve encountered continues to work out of love. Love doesn’t mean despair never rears its head. Love doesn’t mean there is not anger or even rage, at times. Love simply means we keep going. The people I know who were inspired only by anger, retaliation, or something else tend to not last more than a season, or at best, a year or two. The same is true for art and creativity. Those of us who are in it for love tend to keep going even in the face of what others might call failure. We love our craft enough to remain curious about where it will take us, and what we will learn. We can apply love to any area of the human condition. We can seek love out, regardless of what hardship is stacked against us. What are your thoughts on love? Best wishes — Thorn
|
T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, What happens when we’re not inspired? Or worse, what happens when we’re downtrodden, or exhausted, or want to give up? Well… Rest is always a good option when we can make space for it. Refilling the well is another strategy: going for a walk, reading a novel, listening to music, sitting under a tree, watching a movie, meditating… Other times, we have to adult, don’t we? The thing I’ve learned though, is that adulting goes better if I don’t carry the attitude that this sucks and...
Hello friends, There I was, on our tiny back mud porch—earbuds in, writing business podcast queued up—putting my boots on. A strange, metallic noise sounded from the back garden. I looked up. A crow was at the birdbath. Not the source. I shrugged, slung my bag with my writing paraphernalia over my shoulder, pressed play on the podcast, and stepped out. The strange sound cut through the podcast voices. Pulling an earbud out, I found the source: a squirrel on the fence, busily grabbing,...
Hello friends, While walking to meet some other writers in a café for our usual co-working date, I saw a piece of standard 8.5x11 inch paper stapled to a utility pole. It was one of those “rip off the tab at the bottom” fliers. I haven’t seen one of those in years, it seems. You may remember them. The “I walk dogs” or “yard work available” ads, with a fringe cut at the bottom, so a passerby could easily rip off the salient information, tuck it into a pocket, and then forget about it until...