4th Street Fantasy Conversation

I spent the day at the 4th Street Fantasy Conversation. I've never attended a fantasy or sci fi conference, and this one is pretty unique - very small, largely attended by writers, a mix of well-known, beginning, and unknown writers. The panels are made up of some very well-known folks, some I am extremely fond of. But it's conducted as a conversation, and for many of them, it seems, an almost unbroken conversation that has been going on for years.

It raises the question again for me about why I didn't go down that path - other than falling into a career and having bills to pay, of course. Starting at 60 seems unlikely. But there's nothing at all keeping me from becoming really informed about some of the best new emerging writing.

Some sad news I discovered was that one of my most favorite authors of fantasy and YA fantasy, Diana Wynn Jones, passed away recently. I was pleased to see how revered her work is by these writers I respect.

I spent some time during what were sometimes disorganized sessions doing some Web cruising to see if any of my other all-time favorite authors were publishing and was pleased to note that R. A. Macavoy, who hadn't published for years (except a little downloadable fragment from Amazon) has a new-ish novella out - it sounds like an expanded version of what I downloaded some years back.

A couple of other writers who were important for me weren't mentioned at the 4th Street Conversation: Pat Cadigan and Joan Slonjewski. I'll need to follow up with folks in the group later on about them - if there is some follow-up conversation.

All in all - I had something approaching a mini-vacation!  Now it's back to work.

Solstice greetings

Imagine an

image related to

the summer solstice here.

I chickened out on downloading an image from the internet to celebrate Summer Solstice with because I got a virus-warning scam from looking at one of them (at least I hope it wasn't a real virus warning).

How can it be that the summer is hitting its peak - and I haven't finished my spring projects yet?

Life is good - perhaps too abundant.  The neighborhood is largely recovered from the tornado of a few weeks ago, though crazily-tilted tree stumps still remain, with the sidewalk pavement humped and dislodged.  Much more sky, and less canopy.  Many, many houses still sport the stylish blue plastic coverings, waiting for a new roof.  And we are getting a new roof too - probably from hail damage that happened prior to the tornado.

Progeny #2 has graduated with an early childhood education major - and no job in sight.  Distracted by going through a major personal shift, which you will know all about if you are friends on Facebook.

May your summer have lazy, useless, delicious days in it.  May your state government not implode the way ours is doing.  May you enjoy these sweet, long evenings. 

A week after the destruction

Just a week ago, I was sitting and doing emails and projects when I heard an odd sound like a freight train approaching the house. I looked up to see wildly thrashing trees, doing bends that trees aren't designed for. I grabbed Charlie, the dog, and went to sit in the hallway, out of direct view of the windows.

My ears popped. The electricity went off. It was over in a minute or two, and I looked out the door and called Peter to describe what I was seeing. The tornado warning sounded just as the wind moved on, and shortly afterward, sirens near and far. We had just experienced a tornado, a half-mile wide, which touched down twice, going through the heart of the Minneapolis north side.

Our own losses were not large, though sad: We lost two and a half trees, which all fell into the street and were cleared out by the city the next day. Two days without electricity were novel experiences, teaching me how much I rely on the Internet.

The main impact on me personally was the emotional exhaustion from rambling around the neighborhood and seeing
so much damage, especially to the trees, but buildings as well. A positive experience was actually seeing so many of my neighbors out in the streets checking up on each other - many of whom I hadn't ever seen. What a rich diversity we represent - in age, race, and culture. I hope to find more opportunities to connect with neighbors in happier ways.

A Happy (Chilly) May Day to All!

 
I wrote this earlier today while waiting for a ride home.

Last year, the May Day festival in my town was held in a summer-like glow of blooming lilacs and late tulips, the leaves fully emerged on most trees.  This year, the tulips are up, bravely, but the tree buds have been shy to come forth, leaves still mostly just peeking their noses out, but unwilling to spread out into the chilly air.  Around Powderhorn Lake, after the parade, the temperature seemed to drop even more, as a few flakes of snow skittered into my face.  I got too chilled to stay for the pageant, in spite of full winter garb (heavy fleece pants, long johns, heavy fleece shirt, winter coat, winter gloves).  Children's faces were a bit pinched from the cold, yet they called out, "Happy Mayday!" with gusto.

Now I am taking refuge in the May Day Cafe, a block or two from the park.  There were lines when I came in - for the hot drinks and bathroom - but most people have filtered out now, either back to the park or home for the day.

The walls here are decorated with photos from earlier May Day parades, the well-worn wooden tables littered with the program from this year.  The theme was "Caws to Unite!"

Thinking of the images and of the parade itself makes me a bit teary - not in a sentimental way, but from a place of deep unease.  Our generally progressive state ended up with a Republican congress and a Democrat governor.  So to avoid having legislation vetoed, the Republicans are proposing two state constitutional amendments: one to (in perpetuity) define marriage as between one man and one woman, and the other to require a state-issued picture ID with current address for someone to be able to exercise their "privilege" (as one legislator put it) to vote.  The estimate I read this morning is that up to 440,000 people could be potentially disenfranchised in any given election .  This is being rammed quickly through despite no evidence of any measurable voter fraud.  I have seldom felt this sucker-punched.

Yet - these happy children today, dressed as crows of warning on their stilts, or carried in wagons as seedlings and hatchlings of the future, do provide hope.  Surely - if not in my lifetime - the powers of love and respect in this country will overcome the powers of fear and ignorance.

Click to see the sleeping fledglings

This gathering was more somber than some, in the black garb of the crows beginning and ending the parade, and in the wintery gray sky -- yet surprisingly, the crowd lining the streets was large and glad.  The goodness and power of the springtime is free for us all.  Laughter can't be taxed, or packaged for the market.  Our children to come won't hate us if we fail to hold strong against the political backlash of fear and ignorance, but they will pity us.

May we hold strong instead, and leave a legacy of celebration, inclusion, and wisdom.  From the street chants of my youth:  the people // united // will never be defeated.

A taste of summer - but just a taste for now

It's that rare kind of day, when the season seems to have sped up and stumbles nearly into the next one.  (But we'll have a relapse into chilly and even rain-mixed-with-snowy weather in a couple of days.)  I thought I'd celebrate by showing some "then and now" pictures.

Then - two weeks ago:

 And now - today:

Yes, folks, those are actually wild turkeys in my neighbor's yard. 

(And yes - there is a Twins game today.)

Morning Bus-Riding Thoughts

Bus photo from minnesota.cbslocal.com

I think the stress is getting to me, or I'm choosing to be stressed.  Some of both, probably.  I'm too sponge-like for my own good.  I tend to absorb the political angst around me - Republican efforts to dismantle unions, most recently.  It's sad seeing the ranks whipped up to hate and fear their own neighbors, their own public servants.  Meanwhile, corporate leaders preach about how American labor is too expensive, so they'll just move to Ireland.

I'm reading Thich Nhat Hahn's new book, Peace is Every Breath. I so often get seduced into thinking that all my worry-energy is something real, that some real kind of work is going on in my whirring brain.  Meanwhile I don't connect with the people right in front of me (right now, also on the bus, a couple of neighbors, Michelle and Barb, talking abuut cooking some kind of potsticker, or how best to handle tofu).

The sun is veiled with a thin cover of cirrus clouds over the downtown buildings as we pause at Nicollet Mall to do the big bus-rider exchange, letting my neighbors go on to their connecting routes and bringing on new passengers for the University's West Bank or South Minneapolis.  It's unexpectedly cold this morning, an icy wind bringing down the temperature in spite of the sun's efforts to melt the skating rinks on the sidewalks.  I've started leaving my big clunky Sorel® boots at home (handed down from a growing son), as most sidewalks are clear by now.  I'll don them again tomorrow, with yet another snow fall predicted.

Let me pledge to return to awareness of my breath, of my body moving in space, surrounded by other breathing, parka-wrapped mammals.  Let me pause to savor moments of beauty.  Let me pause before speaking, with intention that my words reflect kindness and compassion, not an aim to defend myself.  Let me cultivate hope.  Let me know and express gratitude.  Let me dare to be alive, to try newness, to grow.

It's Thawing a Bit

Now that I'm done with my January challenge of writing a "small stone" each day, I'm not sure what rhythm I'll find for blogging.  But I'm having fun with photos.  In the last few days, it's thawed a bit, which made going out for a friend's Ph.D. graduation party feel fun instead of daunting, and which has made the river flow more openly.  I even switched to a parka instead of my boot-length down coat!

 But the weekend itself has been pretty gray, a bit foggy at times.  Good napping weather.

Where have I been? Stacking up small stones.

My January challenge to do a "small stone" each day (moment captured in language) is coming along nicely- take a peek.

Having fun with small stones

 I accepted a challenge to write a "small stone" each day in January, and so far have done so.  For more info about this challenge, see the notice at the right.

It's unexpectedly - challenging!  (The point is to actually pay close attention, at least one moment during the day, and describe it in words.)

I happened upon this challenge at Mel's place - she's doing it too.

Write Hard / Die Free

I am just now catching my breath from the Christmas part of the holidays.  Last-minute shopping, wrapping, delivering, unwrapping, and feeding has taken place. My son Tim, living in NYC, has come and gone for a quick visit (dropped off at the airport at 6:00 a.m. this morning). The University made the decision to be closed over this whole week, though faculty and academic staff have ostensibly been working from home. I have done some email, and have some other projects I'll try to get to tomorrow, but I'm likely not to have much to show for myself work-wise for this week. There is still some smoked salmon left over for tonight in the refrigerator, and I'm feeling no urgency.

My favorite present came early, perhaps intended partly as a birthday present, from my youngest brother in Alaska.  Here it is:

Actual size less than an inch wide - with a hook to use it as a zipper pull.  It's a riff on a Hells Angels motto, and I'm delighted to have it.

I'm never quite as much alive as when I am writing, though meditation is good to do as well. Writing brings me back to a sense of being myself, irreducible, unchanging at the core.  It helps me dive below the flotsam and jetsam at the surface to what lies below.  I think I've been waiting for things to clear on their own, instead of pushing aside the surface distractions to reconnect with what is important. 

I've been spending the last couple of days, in between things, catching up on some blogs, and being inspired once again to clear my throat and and find voice for my thoughts and observations. 

Let this be my New Year's endeavor to Write Free, to write freely, to be free to write, to free up the writing.

Addendum:  if any of you are particularly interested in an online writing community (fiction, poetry, and more) particularly oriented to young adults (or writers with young adult readers in mind), check out Figment.  I've recently spent a couple of late evenings browsing among the posted writings, some by published authors trying out new material, and some by unpublished young writers looking for feedback.