My monthly Gateless Writing salons are on hiatus for a little while as I continue to heal from a vaccine-related relapse of bartonella and Epstein Barr virus. Joining my email list is the best way to stay up to date about future salons, workshops, and coaching groups. I do have two openings in my coaching practice for a September 1, 2021 start date.
In the meantime, here is an excerpt of what I wrote in the August 16th salon (In Gateless Writing, we are asked to write everything that comes up):
When I put down my book of short stories every night, I think about Cornel West, and his beautiful gap-toothed smile. I saw him in the Harvard Book Store the day I bought this copy of the Best American Short Stories of 2020. It was January, so we must have had masks on. I spotted him when I first walked in and pretended to browse romance novels while I eavesdropped on him excitedly talking philosophy with some undergrads. I smiled to myself and moved on. Later on, as I was walking to the checkout counter, we made eye contact. He smiled and gave me a practiced but genuine, “Hello, how are you?” with a nod of his head, all wild eyebrows, nerdy glasses, and graying afro. I was taken aback, not used to being so thoroughly acknowledged, in New England, by a very famous Harvard professor. It was as if we were in the South, and as if he cared. I said “hello professor” and nodded, smiling huge behind my mask. For a moment, Cornel West made me feel like a human being again. He was wearing his signature three piece black suit with a chain sneaking out of the vest pocket. I really, really hoped he had a pocket watch. It made me wish I had some kind of signature look. I feel as if I have a kinship with Professor West because of his upper midline diastema, a.k.a. a significant gap between the upper front teeth. I was born with one too, before it was “fixed,” without my consent. It’s not that it was done against my will, but no one asked me if I wanted the surgery, it was just assumed. Of course this isn’t real life real, but in my heart the warmth of his greeting indicated that Dr. West knew that we were in the same club.
Okay, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I will attempt to rewrite the conclusion to the damn manuscript that I desperately want to finish:
I hope that you have found some sweet nuggets here to support you in your healing. And maybe you see now too, how being on the healing path contributes to our collective liberation. While we could write a neverending list of all the things that are wrong with the United States of America, there are just as many opportunities for change, redemption, and new paradigms. As important as it is for us to heal the white supremacy and racial capitalist constructs that live within us, it is equally important that we dream new possibilities into being. And as you know so well, dreaming doesn’t happen as easily, or at all, when you are completely exhausted, depleted, and beat down. Dreaming is enabled by being on the healing path. Each small shift and healing victory make space for possibility.
Imagine for a moment what it would be like if everyone in this country loved themselves, or even if everyone was willing to walk the path of self-love. Let yourself feel what it would be like if your neighbor, your doctor, and your community leaders really, truly loved themselves, and through loving themselves in turn loved the land, and had a relationship with their ancestors, with animals, and the divine. What does that feel like in your body? What do you notice and where?