Hello, everyone -- and Happy Earth Day!
I planned to share some neighborhood turkey stories with you right out of the gate, but I’d feel remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that my greetings come from Minnesota.
My home state is in the news a lot these days—we’ve had the trial and conviction of the former Minneapolis police officer who killed George Floyd. We’ve had the police shooting death of twenty-year-old Daunte Wright in a traffic stop. The New York Times recently ran an opinion piece by a U of M professor titled “Minnesota is one of the best places to live in America. Unless you’re Black.”
These incidents, that headline, they do not describe the state I thought I grew up in, the state I lovingly described to people in other states and countries, the state I have proudly referred to as “God’s country,” the state I returned to last September.
When my husband and I moved from here to Washington in 2001, we were a young couple with everything ahead of us. By the time we returned in September 2020, we had traveled a long road, including one that made us a family of color—our son having been born in India.
Today I look at our son and wonder what kind of place we brought him to. Will he be safe? Respected? Loved? How can we ensure that? What can we do to ensure it for all people of color, for all people?
I recently listened to a sermon/podcast by John Mark Comer of Portland’s Bridgetown Church. In it he defines work as what we do to put God’s world to rights. Whatever it is—advocating for justice, washing clothes, helping a child learn to read, editing a news article, filling a pothole on a city street—it is not just about expending effort or making money but about righting a broken piece of this fallen world.
As I mentioned in my last e-newsletter, I’m trying to spend some “fallow” time here, regrouping and listening for what work I am called to do now that our family is somewhat settled. When a friend read that, she called and congratulated me for taking this time—only she referred to it as my “feral” time.
I laugh every time I think of my “going feral”—which might not be so far off the mark, given that I haven’t had a haircut since February (or was it January?) 2020. But then I think, hmm, in addition to the hair issue, I’ve recently lapsed into other habits that have left me sluggish and not really performing at my best. Feral indeed.
Why am I sharing this personal bit on Earth Day in Minnesota, when much bigger issues are at stake? Because in the midst of our broader messes, one thing I’ve learned is that it takes communities to make things right, and communities are made of families and families of individuals, and when each of us is at our best, we are able to do our most productive, caring work.
So on this day, we know there is much to be done, and it is overwhelming. But along with whatever work you are called to do to put things right in the world, I would like to encourage you to take time to care for yourself.
Years ago I was assigned the task of identifying fifty things that bring me joy and doing several of them each day. Was my therapist kidding? My schedule had no room for any more activities, joyful though they might be.
Her advice came to mind this morning as I walked Leo on a quest for wild turkeys, and it occurred to me: “This is it.” The smell of spring wafting from warming soil, the sight of bright blue sky overhead, the feeling of wind blowing through my wild hair, the companionship of my dog ambling along by my side. I realized I was experiencing four joys right there, and that her assignment, to do several joyful things a day, might have been less about doing them and more about noticing the joy that already is.
I have to believe that being present, recognizing those moments and reveling in them is something each of us can do. And doing this can help us become more joyful people—people who are inspired and energized to do the work necessary to make our world a healthier place, a safer place, a more joy-filled place for each and every one of us.
Take good care,
Sarah
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Don't tell Leo, but our neighborhood wild turkeys seem to have taken his place lately as my muse. In fact, they have wound themselves up into my memories of a special day in Japan, as you can read in today's blog post, "Kabuki birds."
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This tom looks like a Thanksgiving bird to me, but I took his picture this spring morning.
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Offerings (for Mother's Day?)
I just completed my latest mentoring/teaching adventure: working with a high school senior on a creative writing independent study.
With each coaching or teaching opportunity, I feel more and more like an evangelist, promoting the wonders and benefits of developing a writing practice. I’d love to encourage you -- or your mom -- to develop one too!
Check out my teaching/coaching webpage for student work samples/testimonials and options: writing mini-memoirs, creating haiku-memoirs, or independent study. Get your own group together, or let me know your individual interest, and I’ll set up a class and independent study for you and/or your loved one!
Gift certificates available.
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When I lived in Japan, I loved The Japan Times' news coverage, and its perspectives on Japanese culture and language, including Karen Hill Anton's "Crossing Cultures" column. Her words were a gift, helping me understand my own rural outpost in Yamaguchi-ken and the broader culture that surrounded me. She recently released a memoir, The View from Breast Pocket Mountain, which is a fascinating look at her life -- both in and out of Japan. Her story is one of resilience, persistence and generous perspective. Highly recommended!
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Short and sweet: What is something -- a moment, a place, a pet, a person, a memory -- that brings you joy? Why?
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Thank you for your interest in The Same Moon and sharing stories! You are welcome to share this email with others who might be interested.
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