Podcasts, Nature, Fiction, Oh My
finding power together in the little things
As much as I am in love with my concept that God is a Midwife, I donʼt want to only write about that—it puts too much pressure on that beautiful paradigm and threatens to make it stale. Plus I am not a one-trick pony.
And so much of how I make up my days has a midwifery vibe anyways—that power together, solidarity, bearing witness, Iʼve-got-you, two-heads-are-better-than-one, accompaniment, stuff-of-humanity, empowering others goodness. But itʼs easy to miss because weʼre programmed to see Iʼll-save-you more than Iʼll be with you.
When I read a phenomenal novel like The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon or The Correspondent by Virginia Evans or The Reformatory by Tananarive Due or Good Dirt by Charmaine Wilkerson, I discover power together with incredible characters. It doesnʼt matter that they arenʼt real (and anyways, sometimes they are real—see Martha Ballard in The Frozen River); they live in my head and heart. Characters lend me their gumption and courage and lessons learned, and I carry them with me long after I turn the last pages of the books they reside within.
Thereʼs a park that I visit at least three mornings a week with the little girl that I nanny for, and it is a guarantee that we will see animals there: koi fish in the pond, ducks, and leashed dogs without fail. Often we also see geese, turtles, deer, and lately even an egret (or heron?). The fish, turtles, and ducks often intermingle (as to the children and puppy dogs). Thereʼs a quarter machine for feeding the koi fish, and chubby little fingers fling the pellets to an always-hungry swell of fish waiting below.
The kids bring the fish lunch, and the fish bring the kids joy. Itʼs a quiet reminder to me that thereʼs an inherent togetherness pulsing through nature. Add in the book Iʼm currently reading—The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak—and suddenly I am also very aware of the trees around me, how my life is inexorably tied to them, and how I regularly take them for granted.
And then thereʼs the wonderful podcast The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. It has also lent me that midwifing energy of solidarity this week, the sense that there are other writers out there also traversing the wilderness of writing a novel (or in my case researching one and envisioning characters and not immediately shutting down the idea that I could write a novel). In the episode with Beth OʼLeary she shared the advice to always finish the first draft, because the majority of crafting the actual novel happens after that. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I just wanted to reach through the airwaves and hug her. I think first drafts suck. Itʼs taken me years to finally let myself write terrible first drafts, but even with that permission, itʼs never the fun part for me. When thereʼs words on the page, then I get to play. It was really meaningful to hear another writer (a published one!) say that her brain works like mine does.
Power together is in the little things, and they arenʼt little. How have you been helped or touched by power together lately?
Thank you so much for the lovely shout out!
The book your Little recently brought home from the school library entitled Pack is reflected in this piece. Serendipitous.