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, We’re in the midst of a glorious false spring here in Portland, Oregon. Crocuses are blooming, and plum trees and daffodils are showing small buds. The air is cool and fresh, the sun shines, and yesterday, a small red finch scoped out the front porch of our 108 year old home, seeing if there’s a good spot to nest. Finches nested on our porch a couple of years in a row a few years back. Seeing that finch lifted my heart. Seeking a place to nest is a sign of hope. There is a...
Hello friends, We had one of our rare snow days here in Portland, Oregon. When snow arrives here, it stays for a week at the most. This week’s storm lasted for all of twenty-four hours. That sort of snow is a pleasure to walk in, and a pleasure to watch from the warmth and comfort of our 108 year old home. Others are not so fortunate, I know. Before the storm hit, our household contributed to a hotel fund for some folks who live on the street. And, as the temperatures reached freezing in the...
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...