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, It’s Pride weekend, and I’m thinking of all the brave people who fought so hard to be allowed to simply exist. And I think of those who are still fighting, myself included. Do we want to fight? No. We’d rather just live our lives, do our work, laugh with friends, raise families, read books, and tend our gardens. Just like immigrants and other people under attack do. “The first Pride was a riot,” it is often said, and whether something is called a riot or an uprising depends on...
Hello friends, The yuccas are in full bloom right now, with dense clusters of creamy blossoms heavy as bells on tall stalks. This type of yucca is a spiky, unassuming plant when not in bloom, and then _bam_there is an astonishing wealth of flowers. While walking to a writing date the other week, I paused at a large grouping of these flowering plants, growing on the edge of a parking lot behind a chain link fence. The blossoms were buzzing with the activity of industrious bees. I paused a...
Hello friends, James Baldwin is one of my favorite writers. He was also a massively intelligent and cogent thinker, who held great insight into the human condition. Baldwin saw in us a breathtaking capacity for love, he also gazed unflinchingly at the worst parts of humanity, mostly our bigotry and greed. Along with his writing, teaching, and activism, Baldwin fought for a life in which he had time and space to do the deep thinking that gave rise to his insights. He also danced with friends,...