I am most alive when I am connected to words through writing, reading, and teaching. Writing allows us not only to confront this sometimes hopeful/sometimes frightening world but also to transcend it, not only to see ourselves more clearly, but to look beyond ourselves to others. As Flannery O'Connor said, "I write to discover what I know." Joan Didion echoed, "I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see, and what it means. What I want and what I fear." And so we have the crafted words intersecting with our discoveries, our meditations, our yearnings. Because writing is by nature such a solitary act, it also can be invigorating to meet face-to-face with readers, continuing a conversation started with the words on the pagea rapport very similar to teaching. Channels open up. Listeners respond with their lives. Similarly, I've witnessed many student epiphanies where brain, heart, and spirit click into action. Yes, this also makes me come alive!
In 1997 as part of the 50th anniversary celebration of Jackie Robinson's breaking the major league color barrier, I was privileged to read poetry at the National Baseball Hall of Fame. As the great grandniece of Branch Rickey -- the general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers who worked with Robinson -- I was thrilled to meet the courageous Rachel Robinson. Although she and Jackie were the real heros, I will never forget when she turned to me and said, "Oh, Mr. Rickey, that wonderful man!" I also am thinking of an excerpt from Donne's "Satire III": "doubt wisely; in strange way/To stand inquiring right is not to stray;/To sleep or run wrong is. On a huge hill/Cragged and steep, Truth stands, and he that will/Reach her, about must, and about must go."/ I was dutifully reading undergraduate homework when I ran smack into epiphany. It is OK to question; what is important is to keep moving forward. Life is a process of growth, discovery, faith. To my teenage self, this was a huge revelation.
Here is an act of kindness that also shaped who I am today. Most children, I believe, grow up loving words -- the rhythm of a story, the music in the nursery rhyme. That love and passion can be encouraged (and I was fortunate in this aspect) or, unfortunately, sometimes squashed. Too many times, I've heard even teens describe the arts as impractical. But the opposite is true, isn't it? Literature has very much to do with our everyday lives. In my house, writing was a valued skill, worthy of being nurtured. My mother, in particular, encouraged me, typing up my early attempts in "books." My aunt took me with her on trips in her Volkswagon camper. She'd find a particularly captivating landscape and set up her easel. I'd take out my pencil and journal. Together, we'd create. What gifts these acts of kindness were to a young child!
Recently, I've had a desire to reconnect with my former teachers and professors. I imagine this yearning comes, in part, from publishing my newest book of poems True, False, None of the Above (Poiema Poetry Series), which explores what it means to write, read, and teach literature in a world thatat turns, rejects, embraces, or shrugs indifferently at the spiritual. The poems look closely at how books mark and mirror our lives, which, of course, I learned from some amazing teachers. My bucket list: to return as author to my high school, to Wheaton College, to the University of Louisville, and to Cornellinstitutions that gave so much to me. I'd love to give back, through meeting with young stu
Literature can lead us to discovery by bringing us face-to-face with ourselves, with others, with the world around us, and with the world to come.Make your passion your life's work.