Not a hero, not a saint
...and some writing and creative opportunities
Snowflakes fell in an urgent, dizzying dance one recent morning as I dropped my children off at school. I drove my car round a curve on the windy mountain road—the way home—and there he was. A man who appeared to be without a home, hunched over a shopping cart, two cigarettes dangling from his mouth as he attempted to light them both at once. I almost looked away. Because I wasn’t sure I could really help. Because I felt sad and afraid. Because I didn’t know him.
I used to be a person who worked for an organization that cultivated relationships with people who lived on the streets. I knew names, stories, and histories. I was often embraced and confided in—welcomed into a community that offered me what it could of reciprocal hospitality. I felt, for the most part, safe.
I live in a different city now, and I no longer work for that particular organization. So, I almost looked away from this man on the side of the road, to avoid my own pain and sense of responsibility. But I didn’t.
And I noticed the cigarettes and orange flash of his lighter, and a shopping cart full of things that could’ve been called trash, and yet there was a pink and white flowered blanket amidst it all that stood out. Partially because it seemed incongruous with the scene, a little bit of whimsy in a dire moment.
I know people and have friends in this not-so-new city of mine who would’ve stopped. I know organizations run by people who might know his name and his story (BeLoved does wonderful work here in Asheville).
I’m not a hero, nor am I a saint. My very small act of courage was simply in noticing and allowing myself to feel my own discomfort and that noticing remains with me. I question the cultural and societal conditioning that pushes me to look away, to stop noticing. I question a city that does not prioritize adequate affordable housing. I question what makes me safe. I question my own fear. Which I think, in writing and in life, is important to do every now and again if we hope to land somewhere in the realm of getting at a certain truth—the truths our hearts yearn to express, the truths worth telling to ourselves and whomever else we hope to share with.
Creative Opportunities
Story Parlor is a lovely little cooperative arts space that amplifies narrative art in all its forms and builds community. We offer month-long artist residencies that culminate in a public performance or workshop. We’re accepting applications for the summer residency! Deadline to apply is April 30th.
My long-time friend (since we were but wee babes in undergrad!) and colleague, Dr. Simona Weik is hosting a Winter Writing Workshop, Letting the Seed Drop In, which begins in just a few days! She is a gifted poet, somatic healing practitioner, and a beautiful, insightful human. I trust her compassionate guidance in unlocking the stories you have to tell. More info here.
Write It Out
In service of the idea of “embodied writing,” my simple prompt is this: Write 5 things that you know to be true—they could be verifiable facts, or they could be emotional truths, or common idioms. Then write 5 lies, or untruths, maybe blatant, maybe subtle. It’s been a helpful practice for me to pay attention to what my body is saying when I write. The truth often feels like a shimmer in my chest, or sometimes an unfurling of ribbon in my gut.
Do you notice feeling sensations in your body as you write? What are they like? Do they help you tell better stories?
Right Now
I am reading……Lark Ascending, by Silas House
I am listening to…. Invisiblia Podcast: ”Revisiting Love and Lapses: A Conversation with Code Switch host B.A. Parker.”
Lastly, I have a story for publication in the works that honors food + Zora Neale Hurston, and also, in a tertiary sense, my late mentor and friend—Hurston biographer, Valerie Boyd. Can’t say much until the contract is signed, but stay tuned…I’m thrilled to be writing some long-form narrative again after a bit of a break. I look forward to sharing it with you in the months to come!!!
Take heart, friends.
Thank you for this! I woke up early and your writing was just what I needed to start the day.