Random thoughts on remembering

Today's entry began as a personal email to a close friend-- a writer friend, to whom i can get away with writing long letters about nothing in particular. It left me thinking, then got me to pull out a book I haven't looked at in a while, and write a little more. So, here they are, some thoughts in nothingness

If you have read a large part of this blog, you'll know that memories and remembrance are themes very close to my heart. Not just that I like writing about specific moments I remember, but also that I am fascinated by the act of remembrance and what it does. Almost 5 years ago (wow) I had prepared a "program of poetry" on remembrance as part of the Speech Team at SUA. Found lots of lovely poetry on the theme, but the one line that has stayed with me is from Sylvia Curbelo: "Snapshots are shields/ What we remember in some way protects us."

Today, as I re-read parts of that book ("Spinning Gold out of Straw" by Diane Rooks), i found an image that struck me. She read the the word "remember" as "re-member" i.e. to put something back together. Perhaps the most graphic and powerful explanation fo that interpretation of the word is in this West African tale she tells:

The Gift of a Cow Tail Switch

A West African Tale

A great warrior did not return from the hunt. His family gave him up for dead, all except his youngest child who each day would ask, "Where is my father? Where is my father?"

The child's older brothers, who were magicians, finally went forth to find him. They came upon his broken spear and a pile of bones. The first son assembled the bones into a skeleton; the second son put flesh upon the bones; the third son breathed life into the flesh.

The warrior arose and walked into the village where there was great celebration. He said, "I will give a fine gift to the one who has brought me back to life."

Each one of his sons cried out, "Give it to me, for I have done the most."

"I will give the gift to my youngest child," said the warrior. "For it is this child who saved my life. A man is never truly dead until he is forgotten!"

(http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/gift.html)

What a powerful story. Yes, that youngest child was the most important in the search.

In less dramatic ways, remembering isn't just about life and death; remembering is also about the little things, which are no less important.

Today I was thinking not only of what it means to look back much later but also of what it means to look back right now. We often tell each other to "forget it" when we are upset or angry, to "move on" when we are hurt... and I do it too, believe we have to be able to move on. Yet, does that "moving on" have to imply looking away? I think not. I think it possible to look something in the eye, embrace it, and then move on.

Indigenous Mexican culture taught me a lot about endings-- most importantly that they are just as much a part of a process as the beginnings. I learned that i didn't have to mourn the end of something beautiful and special-- or, i could, if i chose to, but i could also celebrate it, or I could do both. I remember my program coordinator's constant refrain "hay que cerrar ciclos" ("one has to close cycles" but I prefer reading it as "circles"), and he was usually talking about internal, emotional circles. In that culture, initiation ceremonies and closing ceremonies were equally important... if you began a project, you had to take out a little time and energy to close the project, not just abandon it and "move on." It felt a little forced at first, but I quickly learned to appreciate the importance of that moment, and I found my own little rituals with which to close important circles.

My last essay at SUA was called "On leaving college: a conversation with Ralph Waldo Emerson," and it explored Emerson's essays "circles" and "experience." A quote from my essay:

Why circles? Circles have a completeness to them: lines can extend infinitely in either direction, but circles cover all the points in the universe that could ever be a part of this particular circumference. When you tie the two ends together, the circle is finished; although its energy may radiate out into surrounding circles, that particular circle is closed and encapsulates everything that happened within it.
I feel this way about my undergraduate career now: it’s been an incredible process, but I have by now gone over all the points in this circle. It is time to close the circle and move on to the next process. Emerson reminds me, “there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens” (179). The end of this process is only the beginning of the next one. And there is no outer limit to how far these circles will expand or how many of them there will be.

I don't know if this makes sense in isolation, but that's what I meant-- needing to tie those tow ends together as a way of having gone over all the points in one circle... so i know it's time to move on to the next one. The image accompanying this essay was one of concentric circles that touch at one common point (I hope you cn envision that!), and it's become how I look at life.

Especially now, as I close one more circle, arrive back at the common point, and start drawing a new, larger circle that encapsulates all the ones up until now. Over the last few weeks, i find myself making gifts and cards for many people at work (I wish i could do it for more than I can, in fact!), and I'm realizing that, although I do believe that the recipients of those cards and gifts appreciate them, I am doing this as much for myself. Saying "thank you" helps me realize in my heart that this one, beautiful chapter is over, without letting its "over-ness" be a sad experience. I guess that's what I learned in Mexico-- I learned to celebrate endings just as much as I celebrate beginnings (look at their Day of the Dead! If a culture can celebrate death just as much
as they celebrate life, what greater example can there be?).

That's all. If you were expecting this to come to some satisfying conclusion, it won't. Not yet at least. It's a thought in process, nothing more, so add your two cents please!

Back, and hopefully here to stay

Finally, I get down to blogging again! i tried more than once in this last week-- honestly, I did-- but i just couldn't write a coherent entry without getting distracted by something or the other.But today I am in more of a writerly mood again, proven by a 3 page diary entry almost first thing in the morning. A good time to get the blog restarted.

So, quick update for those of you who are completely out of touch with me (which you would be if your primary source of information is this blog!). I'm moving to New York in a month, all set for a Masters in Creative Writing at Sarah Lawrence College. I quit work at the beginning of this month to take a break and have been spending my days between the pottery wheel and dates with friends i haven't seen in a while. And, a little bit, the notebook (electronic and otherwise). I haven't noticed how these two weeks have gone by, which is quite something because i cannot usually be home for more than a few days without getting restless... oh well, I'm not complaining!

It's been lovely to spend so much time at the pottery wheel again... I really need to find a way of keeping this up at grad school. It's such a different art form than writing that it becomes the perfect balance between the head and the hands, the verbal and the tactile. And it's one of those art forms that forces you into a patience you might otherwise never have had... also forces you to accept the things beyond your control and enjoy the process of making art without getting too worked up about the result (that clay always seems to have a mind of its own!).

That reminds me of something i read yesterday in (I think) Anne Lamott's wonderful book "Bird by Bird" (it's a book on writing, before you ask). She talked about how many of her students want to "have written" something more than they want to "write". That was a powerful observation for me, int eh context of both my writing and my pottery... how much do i want to create art, and how much do i want to have created art? And which is more important to me?

Definitely the process of creating... that's where I find joy and my reason for doing this in the first place. And the more I think about this, the more I realize this is why publication doesn't mean as much to me... I'd much rather write and teach writing all my life, full of the joy of it, than I would publish a few books while rushing through the process. At the end of the day, though, i guess they aren't that separable. Still, my heart is the doing, not in the having done.

Yesterday, i was feeling very disgruntled by how the words weren't coming, by how darn bored i was feeling as i tried to blog. So i was thinking about what words mean, about how my world changes when i write. The reflection didn't get me writing yesterday, but definitely got me writing today, and will hopefully keep me writing over the next few weeks and months (i'm going to commit to 2 blog posts a week until I leave for grad school... although i am promising myself i will write everyday, let's say that twice a week, i will write for a blog audience... if it happens more often, great, but for now, let me hold myself to this!).

So, what i realized through that reflection yesterday is that I am more alive when i am writing continuously than when i am not. And i don't just mean more alive during the physical act of writing; i'm talking about that writerly mood. Because, in order to write, you have to pay attention to life. You have to notice the smells and sights and sounds and little absurdities around you... you have to look for meaning in what is otherwise mundane and everyday. I remember, while I was blogging regularly, i would often see some random thing on the road and think about the blog posts that could be based on it... posts like "New Delhi's traffic lights" or even the entries from Mongolia were born from that wakefulness. These days, since i havent been writing very much, i can afford to ignore the little miracles that take place aorund me everyday. Of course, i can't really afford that, it makes me feel lethargic-- emotionally. So i'm going to now push myself to reconnect, to notice, to oepn up my senses, and to write.

Look for more regualar posts from here onwards, and scold me if i don't write at least twice a week! ;)