What's Possible?
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Hello friends, While on a walking break from the writer’s conference I taught at last weekend, I paused to snap a picture of a wall mural. It was advertising something—toasted English Muffins, I believe—and showed a mountain scene, with trees, lake, and sky, and people entertaining each other with song around a campfire. But besides the incongruity of such a beautiful scene marketing a breakfast bread, it was the message that stopped me: “Wake up to what’s possible.” Well. That’s where we are each day, isn’t it? And especially now. Why especially now? Because there are people in positions of power who wish to grind us down and quash our spirits. They don’t want us to imagine what is possible. They want us to shrink into ourselves in fear and defeat. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to do that. I’ve been fighting this battle since around age thirteen, and these days? As a gender nonconforming queer person, I refuse to be erased. And I refuse to let these people steal my joy, my vision, and my hope for a kinder future. So, every day, I write. Every day, I take a walk and notice beautiful things. Every day, I find a way to help someone. Every day, I wake up to what is possible, which includes both good and bad, and I choose to take action for the good and against the bad. How about you? How are you awakening to what is possible? What are you creating? What strategies are helping you through? Best wishes - Thorn I usually showcase my own projects down here, but today I want to highlight the work of the Border Butterflies Project. They work on behalf of trans immigrants.
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T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, This will be a short missive because I've been in Las Vegas all week, at the big Author Nation business conference and the big Reader Nation book fair. While Vegas is not my favorite place—an understatement. I actually find it very trying—I travel here to learn. I travel here to get out of that proverbial comfort zone. It is good for me to stretch myself, body, spirit, and mind. Sometimes, in order to learn, we must cast ourselves into the strange and challenging... And let me...
“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,...