|
Hello friends, “One of the keys of fascism is control of the nation’s narrative…” Social philosopher Kimberlé Crenshaw said that in this recent Guardian article. I’ve long admired Crenshaw’s work, and when I read those words this morning, I thought, “this is why I write.” I write to switch the narrative to something that feels healthier, kinder, and more beautiful. Every creative impulse can be anti-fascist. Every creative act can help heal us, body, heart, mind, and soul. Each creative work can bring community closer together. It does not matter what it is. Baking bread, sharing seeds… Think of our ancestors who sang together as they worked. Think of the potters and woodworkers who made ordinary household items things of beauty. Think of all the scarves and shawls and sweaters knitted to help keep community warm. Me? I write worlds I want to live in. I write worlds where magic is real and community comes together to fight for love and justice. I write about centering ourselves, and reaching out to others. Acts of creativity are acts of love and connection. Deep love and connection, in my experience, are anti-authoritarian. Anti-fascism begins where we are, every day. It doesn’t require grand or noble gestures. Keeping community safe is simple: We share food. We share songs. We get creative with what we have. Making space for creativity underscores our humanity. Creativity is as necessary to human thriving as water. Creativity also connects us to the rest of the natural world, which is creating all the time. What helps you create? How does what you create ripple out into the world? Best wishes — Thorn
|
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...