Whimsy is healing
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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 bits of soggy paper ended up in the washing machine. This one was different enough that I smiled and snapped a photo. The body of the flier read, “I’m bored. I’ll send you a collage for no reason. With one easy step. DM me your address.” Totally whimsical, which is why I smiled. Best thing? All the little tabs were gone but one, with an Instagram handle on it. I looked it up later—@mailordercollagepdx—and it’s a tiny account filled with…bright paper collages. Pretty neat. There’s a lot of talk about whimsy these days, for good reason. Most of us are exhausted, sad, angry, and suspicious. We need a little whimsy to remind us that life is not just a tired, oppressive grind under dangerously escalating fascism and climate crisis. There is Black Boy Joy. There are people dressed as fairies having tea. Burly adults are painting their fingernails and gathering flowers. There’s a surge in cozy books. And, who here is as excited to watch Sheep Detectives as I am? Anyone? Some of you might still be suspicious of whimsy. First of all, why would I send a stranger my address so they could mail me art? What if they want to rob me? Besides being a ridiculously convoluted plan for smash and grab, I think that suspicion points to an underlying question: What right do we have to spontaneous joy in the midst of suffering? Every right. We are human. We can be serious and sorrowful, angry and helpful, as well as playful. We can embrace the totality of the human condition, and live to dance another day. As a matter of fact, if we are able to, we must. Best wishes — Thorn
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T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, While vending at Punk Rock Pride last month, something on the pebble dash sidewalk caught my attention. It was a safety pin. I smiled, because safety pins are a hallmark of old school punk. They were a way to keep clothing together even if you didn’t know how to sew. Safety pins were handy for attaching patches and badges to jackets. Best of all? They lacked the respectability of neatly mended clothes. Safety pins could also be seen to represent the fierce way community holds...
Hello friends, There are a wide variety of humans, but today I’m thinking about two basic types. There are the people who take themselves out of the picture. Write themselves out of the story. Slink to the edges of the frame. Others take center stage at all times. They fill the image, crowding out or overshadowing those around them. These people are the stars of the show, and the only Main Characters. But here’s the thing: no matter what our tendencies or training, we would all do well to...
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