Unpacking the Intro

I know I JUST posted a few days ago, and you wonderful subscribers get this shoved into your inbox whenever I hit publish. I try to be conscious of that with posting and frequency. But I want to tell you two things.

Anyone who’s been in a writing group with me–hospital or otherwise–knows the introduction that I give about writing and its benefits–blood pressures, white blood cell counts, communication, et cetera. Some of you might even know it by heart. It is informed by hundreds of hours of reading and investigation, and I distill it down to 3-5 minutes because I’m trying to run a Writing group, not a Listen to Seema Talk group (though I do sometimes err in the direction of the latter, I’m sure). But there’s so much more information–theory and ideas from thinkers from Adrienne Rich to Carl Rogers–that I would love to have the time to discuss. Thursday, May 12th at 730 pm, I’ll be breaking that intro down. There will also be a writing prompt, of course, because as compelling as the jargon and theory and research might be, there’s nothing like knowing it yourself. Check out the event’s Facebook page here or on the events page, and consider joining me. Would love to see your faces. Plus the Strathmore has a kaleidoscope exhibit up and you HAVE to see it.  So so so so so cool.

The second thing I’d like to say is a little less delightful, and I’ve wondered whether I should say anything about it at all. But we have a culture we’re creating, and you beauties who come here are my community and so I need to tell you what happens and how it makes me feel, to use experiences as an opportunity to grow.

Last week I got a poem in my inbox (usually my favorite thing) that made me a bit uncomfortable. It came from someone who was at a reading I did in Ohio, I believe. I shared it with some of my inner circle folks here at headquarters, and it made them uncomfortable. It was just a little…icky. So let’s play by this rule: If you wouldn’t like someone to address something like that to your mother, don’t send it to me (or to any woman you’re not in a relationship with). 

And on that note, Happy Mother’s Day, Ma. Those elaborate weekday breakfasts, the easy flowing forgiveness, the art store shopping sprees, the hand on my forehead, the warm place to come back to when I grew tired from my own mothering–none of it is forgotten. It lives in my skin, it makes me feel certain, even when I’m struggling under my own judgment, that I’m worthy of love. There’s no greater gift you could have given me. Thank you.

There will be a prompt later this week–I came across a super awesome poem that I think you’ll all love, can’t wait to share it.