I imagine you’ve seen this meme a lot over the past 10 days. I shared it on Facebook before, in other years with a different photo. So many people have shared it lately that I didn’t expect to do it again. Why be redundant? But when it came in my Facebook feed again tonight, I thought maybe this is something to meditate on. I don’t actually meditate, so I don’t mean it literally for me, though maybe I should. Maybe that’s what this post is.
This 30-day blog posting challenge has brought me up against some silencing questions: What the hell do I have to say that others aren’t already saying better? And who cares, anyway? Those are not new questions, but I normally don’t have to deal with them. Most times that they pop up (anytime I get the urge to write something), I can push them aside by not writing. That’s my pattern. But having taken on this November task and since I don’t want to bail halfway through, I can’t just not write each day. I have to force myself to say something, as scary as that is.
This Morrison quote is a call to arms, a call to report to duty. I strongly believe all people of good heart need to do it: figure out what you have to give to what, under the last Trump administration, was called “the resistance.” I’m seeing that term mocked now by our side; I don’t know what the new term will become. Whatever it’s called, it’s going to be on each of us to do something in the midst of the horrors that are to come. And in response to the horrors that are already here and in Gaza and in other parts of the world. I don’t know what to do.
I’ve never considered myself an artist and don’t foresee it happening. But I know I’m included in Morrison’s quote like everyone else. Anyone can be this kind of artist: one who puts heart and passion into creating a vessel for truth while lies rain down on us, one who puts heart and passion into creating a vessel that offers strength and hope. This made me think of what I as a writing coach try to accomplish with my clients: help them clarify their purpose, identify and strengthen and believe in their voice, develop courage to share that voice, develop resiliency. Those are the same things each of us needs to do as we prepare for the challenges that will suddenly come hard and fast at noon on January 20.
Personally, I’d rather snuggle under the covers with my little dog and binge Crazy Ex-Girlfriend for the 10th time. No doubt you have your own thing you’d rather do.
It would be so much easier. I’m 70, for fuck’s sake, and out of shape and needing to look for more clients to make ends meet. And tired. I don’t have much. But I do have the ability to string sentences together, so it’s now on me to do the work to make them meaningful and to have faith that maybe something I say will help at least one person.
