For the Birds: The stories we tell
Plus BIRDSEED, this month's Resiliency Circle details, and "Unlocking Creativity Through a Trauma-Informed Lens" (on the Wellness Center Creators podcast).
Thanks for being here! These letters are born of my own artistic vision, but they carry the hope of encouraging you in yours. Paid readers gain access to The Resiliency Circle & receive nourishment all month long: stories, essays, and prompts to support you in bringing creativity to the surface of your days, always with sustainability + enchantment in mind.
Dear readers,
One of my favorite places to be in this whole entire world is at my local movie theater.
My partner plays a pretty big role in this. And while he’s broadened my film horizons by about 1,000%, I’m proud to say that I’m the reason we consume so many scary movies.
Watching something spooky on the big screen is a deeply wonderful sensory experience for me, as is eating spicy or sour food, going on roller coasters, hanging upside for extended periods of time, getting tattooed, and, yes, swaying or rocking my body.
Hyposensitive vestibular processing, a clinically-minded person might say.
Part of walking through the DSM-V diagnostics for Autism last winter involved completing various sensory profiles, an illuminating and not-always-easy thing to do as a highly masked person, as it meant accurately observing the way external things affect me.
As it turns out, masking begins at the level of observation (or rather, lack thereof) and then solidifies at the level of story.
Case in point: When inquiring about my relationship to tight clothing, I confidently told my therapist that I don’t identify with this common Autistic trait. “I do love wearing compression socks though,” I added quickly, like a side note, claiming that I’d wear them everyday if I had enough pairs. “Oh, and I’ve done this thing for years and years where I wear a tight tank top under all my outfits, even when it’s really hot.” One time, I asked M if he could take some recycling to the porch for me because I didn’t have a shirt on, to which he pointed out that I was wearing a tank top—this is how merged these tight undergarments and I have become.
“So,” my therapist gently offered, “it sounds like maybe you do have a relationship with tight clothing?”
When your mentor / therapist / coach / guide inquires about the stories you tell about yourself, and then wants to know where those stories might be coming from, this is the stuff they’re trying to get at.
Because sometimes the stories aren’t accurate, just familiar.
On Thursday, M and I went to see A Quiet Place: Day One, and within five minutes I found myself staring at Lupita Nyong'o’s brilliant expression, gaunt and in full shock after an explosion decimates the city street she’d just been standing on, a thick line of dust painting the right side of her face à la Phantom of the Opera, and I could only think one thought:
This is what’s happening in Palestine.
I’m not sure what it means to normalize destruction through entertainment.
I’m not sure what it means to shoot off fireworks or fly drones in the name of independence when those same sounds, were I living in another part of this same world, could signal something very, very different.
I’m not sure what freedom means because I don’t think many of us are talking about it truthfully. We have a story, yes. But when you name the lived experiences out loud, they seem to belong to a different telling.
I don’t mean to be a buzzkill; there’s a chance I may find myself on a bluff near the south end of town watching my city’s annual fireworks display this Thursday.
I don’t mean to be a hypocrite, either.
I just think the only way to do this complicated thing called living well—to maintain personal fortitude and a commitment to global justice—is by looking directly at everything all at once; to be willing to protect the contradictions.
I want to protect the part of me who wants to go the movie theater with her boyfriend.
I want to protect the part of me who donates money to help Palestinian children.
I want to protect the part of me who makes handmade chapbooks & zines and mails them to people she barely knows.
I want to protect the part of me who laid down on the asphalt with my neighbors after George Floyd’s murder.
I want to protect the part of me who votes, and who refuses, and who writes, and who worries she laughs too loud but does nothing to adjust it.
I don’t want to protect The Story.
I want to protect the telling.
Today’s newsletter includes:
The newest BIRDSEED playlist
A podcast share
Details for this month’s Resiliency Circle
I hope these things serve as anchors into joy or hopefulness (or, at the very least, some clarity) during this complicated week.
I hope you celebrate—ferociously, but not mindlessly.
I hope you tell what needs telling, and you practice letting the other stuff go.
1) BIRDSEED
~a monthly playlist, curated by M: hiker, librarian, poet, & boyfriend extraordinaire~
2) “Unlocking Creativity Through a Trauma-Informed Lens”
Last month, I got to have an illuminating conversation with Kendall Hagensen and her kickass co-host, Anna Rudel, on the Wellness Center Creators podcast. This short & sweet episode is a primer on the necessity of bringing trauma-informed lenses into creative spaces, especially as coaches, mentors, and holistic guides.
TUNE IN IF:
You’re interested in bringing / maintaining trauma-informed practices in your own professional work
You’re curious about the intersections of writing + neurodivergence + personhood
You carry academic wounds (especially ones that dim your relationship to writing)
You suspect you might like to work with me someday…
You’re inspired by the notion of thinking about creativity in more holistic ways
3) The Resiliency Circle
I love facilitating guided writing. I love body doubling and parallel play. And I LOVE creating spaces where a handful of us can quietly engage our creativity in each other’s company without the obligation to fill up the space with talking.
But this month, I want to experiment with holding a slightly different gathering…
The July Resiliency Circle falls on Wednesday the 24th, and I want to fill up the space with talking! I want to amplify the community aspect of these virtual gatherings by inviting *your voice* a little more firmly into the room. And I want to do so in a way that leaves space for our conversation to go where it needs and wants to go.
So here’s the plan: July’s Resiliency Circle will be a “Community Conversation.” We’ll gather for a gentle, inclusive hour and practice articulating / expressing / commiserating / and celebrating our creativity in holistic ways, offering witnessing and inspiration to each other as needed.
I’ll bring a “starting question”—but only to get the ball rolling. I’ll be listening and looking to you all to carry us forward, trusting in the will of the room.
I’ve narrowed my “starting question” down to three options (see below). Which one are you most energized by? Which one would be most useful?
Zoom link coming soon!
Learn more about The Resiliency Circle here. Reach out with any questions <3
So looking forward to this month's Resiliency Circle! I often find myself writing my thoughts, feelings, curiousities into my journal, but not expressing them outwardly. I look forward to this little experiement : )
"I want to protect the telling." Brilliant! It is the telling of story that captivates the receiver as much as the story itself. A spectacular tale may be blah when told, well blahly. And an experience without bones can turn widely captivating if a bit embellished, shared by the campfire, featured with music, food or other props. And if possible, by knowing a bit about your audience, one can be wise about who is accompanying you to the scary movie or fireworks. My son, visiting from Italy, paid tribute to The Dalles Library last week and came upon a martial arts teacher giving a presentation on his craft. His unexpected audience of 3 - 5-year-olds (he admitted he was used to adults) heard not appropriate stories about how to cut off the blood supply to your fighting opponent and to look for bulging veins. as a sign of stress!