Often I think what we need, more than a "future kind of thinking" is a past one. All the instinctual wisdom of how to be human on this earth was in us, once, and I believe is still reachable without any new invention or strategy, but it will take slowing down enough to re-member things. Thank you for this sharing, M, and I hope it's a wonderful Breadloaf week just over the hill.
I see this angle too. I think what I'd love is both - a deep respect for the harmony and balance that came from that older, instinctual wisdom - and a reckoning with the future humans have set in motion, and problems which did not exist then. I think both mindsets would produce a meaningful holistic way of thinking and being. Wishing you a beautiful summer on the Knoll. xx
I’m curious how a future kind of thinking would sound like, what it would feel like, both in its resonance and newness. And how as langauge and culture blooms in its new growth, such as the way children these days have their own culture of humour and wit and understanding that reckons with their past their present and their future, how do we thread it back as well as forth.
I started my day with your post which landed in my inbox at the right time. In all honesty, I drown under the weight of Substack subscriptions. But yours arrived post coffee, pre-work. Perfect timing. I loved 'the present', by WS Merwin. The image of the dead crow reminded me of squirrel I passed a few weeks ago. Dead. Freshly fallen from the tree and utterly pristine.
Yes to this "Someone told me once that there are writers who pull up the ladder, and writers who extend it to others - I hope you share what you learn this week with your communities"
I've really come around to ideas of access when it comes to writing instruction. One of my worries with environmental communication is that the voices we really need to hear from in order to color and complicate our sense of reality - those voices don't always make it to writing conferences. thank you for engaging here - i appreciate your words.
Wow. Thanks for sharing that poem. And thank you for you beautiful words and reminding us that we, as a species, are capable in believing in more. Too easy to forget these days.
I am reading Rebecca Solnit's new book of essay's called No Straight Road Takes You There. Wonderful. I love this quote from the essay Tortoise at the Mayfly Party. "Once you create a new idea of what is possible and acceptable, the seeds are planted; once it becomes what the majority believes, you've created the conditions in which winning happens." Plant the seeds writers!
I loved reading your words this morning as I visit with my daughter, son-in-law, and one-year-old granddaughter in Middlebury while more of the future thinkers we need are up on the hill learning and writing.
Seeing my grandaughter's eyes of wonder energizes me
to "pull up the ladder and extend it to others" in my community in Idaho.
The last two nights, my partner and I sat outside and watched a firefly light show, which brought back fond memories of summer for me growing up in Connecticut and a first for my partner, who had never seen fireflies before. I saw the same amazement and wonder in my partner's eyes as I have witnessed daily with my granddaughter. Thank you for The Crow today.
May I share The Crow with my writing group in Idaho?
I tried to read on but couldn't get past you having someone come over to scoop up the crow with a dustpan. Did they just toss it? Anything else you wrote would have been more meaningful to me if I knew you cared enough to bury this once living soul.
Hi Scott - I understand your position here. I touched the bird, offered it the prayer I always offer roadkill and dead animals. I'm away from home at a conference on a remote mountain top and have no access to shovels, etc. So I was looking for buildings and grounds. The dustpan was, in essence, the shovel - and the crow was put to rest in the beautiful Green Mountain wilderness. I understand your strong feelings here; I often have those myself.
Often I think what we need, more than a "future kind of thinking" is a past one. All the instinctual wisdom of how to be human on this earth was in us, once, and I believe is still reachable without any new invention or strategy, but it will take slowing down enough to re-member things. Thank you for this sharing, M, and I hope it's a wonderful Breadloaf week just over the hill.
I see this angle too. I think what I'd love is both - a deep respect for the harmony and balance that came from that older, instinctual wisdom - and a reckoning with the future humans have set in motion, and problems which did not exist then. I think both mindsets would produce a meaningful holistic way of thinking and being. Wishing you a beautiful summer on the Knoll. xx
I’m curious how a future kind of thinking would sound like, what it would feel like, both in its resonance and newness. And how as langauge and culture blooms in its new growth, such as the way children these days have their own culture of humour and wit and understanding that reckons with their past their present and their future, how do we thread it back as well as forth.
I started my day with your post which landed in my inbox at the right time. In all honesty, I drown under the weight of Substack subscriptions. But yours arrived post coffee, pre-work. Perfect timing. I loved 'the present', by WS Merwin. The image of the dead crow reminded me of squirrel I passed a few weeks ago. Dead. Freshly fallen from the tree and utterly pristine.
Yes to this "Someone told me once that there are writers who pull up the ladder, and writers who extend it to others - I hope you share what you learn this week with your communities"
I've really come around to ideas of access when it comes to writing instruction. One of my worries with environmental communication is that the voices we really need to hear from in order to color and complicate our sense of reality - those voices don't always make it to writing conferences. thank you for engaging here - i appreciate your words.
Wow. Thanks for sharing that poem. And thank you for you beautiful words and reminding us that we, as a species, are capable in believing in more. Too easy to forget these days.
I always look forward to your kind and mindful comments! Thank you for reading and being here.
I am reading Rebecca Solnit's new book of essay's called No Straight Road Takes You There. Wonderful. I love this quote from the essay Tortoise at the Mayfly Party. "Once you create a new idea of what is possible and acceptable, the seeds are planted; once it becomes what the majority believes, you've created the conditions in which winning happens." Plant the seeds writers!
I have a print of the Mississippi River paths hanging on my wall - I just love how it is past/present /future - all of it and none of it - and a river that is most certainly not "ours". You can view more of them here, they are just beautiful: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/maps-of-the-lower-mississippi-harold-fisk/
Truly stunning. The colors and the sheer will of water...
I loved reading your words this morning as I visit with my daughter, son-in-law, and one-year-old granddaughter in Middlebury while more of the future thinkers we need are up on the hill learning and writing.
Seeing my grandaughter's eyes of wonder energizes me
to "pull up the ladder and extend it to others" in my community in Idaho.
The last two nights, my partner and I sat outside and watched a firefly light show, which brought back fond memories of summer for me growing up in Connecticut and a first for my partner, who had never seen fireflies before. I saw the same amazement and wonder in my partner's eyes as I have witnessed daily with my granddaughter. Thank you for The Crow today.
May I share The Crow with my writing group in Idaho?
It's always great to hear from you, David! Please, share the post. I'm grateful for your engagement here and with your writing group!
Thank you.
This is inspiring, Megan. This bit surprised me: "For someone who throws her own tarot cards every morning...". I've never known anyone who does that!
I tried to read on but couldn't get past you having someone come over to scoop up the crow with a dustpan. Did they just toss it? Anything else you wrote would have been more meaningful to me if I knew you cared enough to bury this once living soul.
Hi Scott - I understand your position here. I touched the bird, offered it the prayer I always offer roadkill and dead animals. I'm away from home at a conference on a remote mountain top and have no access to shovels, etc. So I was looking for buildings and grounds. The dustpan was, in essence, the shovel - and the crow was put to rest in the beautiful Green Mountain wilderness. I understand your strong feelings here; I often have those myself.