Rhena Writes

Category: Uncategorized

  • Updates from beside the wood stove

    There are worse things, I suppose, than having so many things to do that fill me up and energize me. These past few days, it’s been cold enough that I’ve been making a fire in the wood stove. This has meant that a portion of each day has been spent alternating between reading and listening to a book while knitting next to the fire. It’s exceedingly cozy.

    I’ve been listening to The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna which I think was written specifically to be listened to while knitting next to a wood stove. All of this feels very indulgent. But also very necessary. I received (yet another) medical bill in the mail today and I realized that the hours I spent being cozy and calm was shoring me up to deal with that particular challenge and other challenges yet to come. In spite of all of my health challenges, the professionals often comment on how my blood pressure is ideal. And I think that taking care of myself in these kinds of ways might have something to do with that.

    These are not the socks I’ve actually been knitting these past few days; this is a pair that I finished before it was fire season. My daughter selected the colors and pattern from my stash.

    I’m grateful for all of the work that my past self put into making sure that I could weather these challenges. Many years ago, I learned to knit. And in the past few years, I’ve accumulated enough skeins of yarn, patterns, and skills that I can pick up a project pretty quickly. It gives me something for my brain and hands to do. Idle hands being what they are… And, of course, there’s always the satisfaction of finishing an item and then giving it to someone, sending it off into the world where it will do its thing. With each item I make, it’s a practice in letting go and in trusting that it will end up doing what it needs to do, being where it needs to be without any sort of effort from me. Once that final strand is woven in (ok, and I block it), it’s out of my hands. I’m done. It’s an exercise in letting go of control. Of course this translate into other areas of my life: parenting specifically. But also even with writing. I put the words on the page and hit publish or otherwise send it off. What happens beyond that is up to the universe. I have to be ok with that or else I’d never do any of it. But I am. And so I do.

  • How Will They Know I Love Them?

    This is the story of how I struggle with saying no to my kids. And also the story of how I struggle to say yes to my kids. And also of how I struggle to say yes to myself. And so therefore perhaps it’s about how I struggle to say no to myself. I guess maybe I could therefore say that it’s about how I struggle with decisions. And maybe that means that I struggle — and usually fail — to recognize the abundance that has been gifted to me.

    It begins with a corn dog. It was the weekend. My daughter wanted one. What she really wanted was to go to one of her favorite restaurants to get a corn dog and a bubble tea. But she never told me this directly, she just kind of hinted around it. I would like to say that I have a strong “mother’s intuition” and that I pay attention so closely to my kids needs and wants that they never have to express them: I just know. But that’s not what’s going on here. At first, I thought that my kids don’t always ask for what they want directly because they don’t like to hear “no.” But I’m starting to realize that my kids sense that I struggle to say “no” to them. They don’t like to see that struggle and so they edit themselves before it even gets to the whole asking directly for their wants and needs. They kind of “test the waters” with hints and indirect comments. It’s not to save themselves from hearing a no. It’s to save them from having to watch me flounder and go back and forth and try to make a decision.

    So I knew that she wanted to go get a corn dog. (Honestly, she’d probably want to get a corn dog every chance she got so this wasn’t any sort of revelation.) And I went back and forth inside my own head on whether or not I wanted to take her to get one. It would take a while, a chunk from their day off from school. But it’s always nice to have these types of trips with her or, really, any of my kids. Corn dogs aren’t the healthiest option, on the one hand. On the other, part of me really does believe in a sort of “do what you enjoy” attitude. We didn’t really have a set lunch at home so why not go out and get something? But, then again, I also had things I wanted to do and enjoy at home. And she had never really asked directly to go. I’d like to think that if there’s one lesson that I’m trying to instill in my kids, it’s to ask directly for what they want from me. And here I was trying to come up with an answer to a request that she hadn’t even made yet.

    And here’s the real crux of the struggle, “If I don’t anticipate and meet their every hearts desire, how will they know that I love them?”

    So I was in this internal state of debate, letting all of these back and forths slowly eat up my morning. Finally, she asked me, directly, “Mom, do you like the corn dog restaurant?”

    It was the first direct question she’d asked all morning about lunch and it wasn’t at all the question I’d been planning for.

    “Well,” I explained to her. “I like corndogs, but they aren’t the healthiest option for me and I’m trying to focus on eating in a healthier way these days.”

    And that was it. She didn’t mention the corndog restaurant again the rest of the day to me. She asked me to help her with cutting celery and onion so she could make herself a tuna melt, which she seemed perfectly satisfied with. And we had a perfectly nice time at home. We’d played volleyball together in the morning. Later, she came to me and asked if I’d play with her again. I was in the middle of writing a poem so I told her, “no.” She tried to convince me a little more but I stuck to my commitment to my writing.

    Of course, it wasn’t easy to say “no” to her. She wanted to do something perfectly wholesome with me, her mother outside on a lovely day. And, of course, in the back of my head, there’s always the thought, “one day my kids will move out and be on their own and I won’t have a chance to play volleyball on a beautiful fall day with them.”

    Later, I found out that she took that time to clean her room.

    And I realized that my always giving more of my time, my attention, my energy every time they ask for it isn’t helping them. I realized how much they are really, truly watching everything I do and soaking it all up. When I say, “no” to them, often it forces them to figure out a way to say, “yes” to themselves, to improving their environment, to taking care of themselves and their health. I had been modeling self-love all along and didn’t even realize it. But she had seen it. And now she could practice it for herself.

    “If I don’t anticipate and fulfill their every want and need, how will they know I love them?” They will know I love them because they see how I love myself. They know I love them because I do.

  • The Fall and rise of yin. (And Happy Halloween.)

    Autumn brings the rise of yin energy, which I’m happily receiving (which, is, appropriate given that yin is in part about receiving). I live in a place where capitalism, patriarchy, etc… creates an imbalance of yang energy — the more fiery, get stuff done, always be on the go, make, produce or die kind of energy is always around. It’s a little too easy to tap into it. To the point that even when I’m even wondering: “is it possible to embrace yin energy TOO MUCH?” This is about sitting back and receiving, after all.

    The other day, I went to Trader Joe’s and picked up some flowers. At home, my daughter and I arranged them into a vase. It’s beautiful. I’m really proud of it. And every time I look at it, I think, “wow, that’s really beautiful” and I appreciate myself for having picked out and purchased the flowers and for having created a moment with my daughter from which emerged something beautiful.

    Isn’t it beautiful? Of course it is.

    I give it a 10/10 no notes. Would recommend. It was a completely perfect series of events and lovely outcome which I continue to enjoy.

    And one of the best parts of the whole thing was that I just received all of that. I didn’t doubt or question. I didn’t hedge. I didn’t think, “oh, I should have done this differently” or “this isn’t quite as good as that other bouquet, experiences, moments, thing that I saw on social media, etc…” I’ve experienced each step in the process of creating and I’ve enjoyed it and moved on to each next moment. Now, I look at this bouquet and think, “that’s really lovely, it really brings me joy and I’m so glad I did that.”

    It’s taken me work, a lot of work, to get to this point where I allow myself to just enjoy these experiences and connections and beauty. But the more I do it, the more I think, “I made something beautiful” or “I’m really proud of what I did” and the more I share these moments (for example here on my blog), the more they build and accumulate and snow ball. They drown out the hesitations and doubts.

    A thing that my daughter taught me recently. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns of autumnal leaves are always there. But from spring through summer, these colors are covered over by green. In the fall, the trees pull back their chlorophyll, which is no longer useful to them and what is revealed are those shockingly beautiful colors that have been there all along. I love a verdant summer. But I cannot sustain that: the constant going and growing and moving and producing. Even the trees can’t sustain it. And what is there underneath, once all that green has run its course and is pulled back, is just as beautiful AND has been there all along. Now is the chance I get to admire all that has been with me underneath the green all the time. I’ve always had it in me to choose a variety of flowers and arrange them into something striking. Now, in the yin energy of fall, is my time to appreciate that and all my other gifts. I hope you can too.

  • To Bike or Not to Bike?

    It’s a sunny, 60ish day here just outside of our Nation’s Capitol: a perfect day for a short, easy bike ride up to my local library. I’ve recently fallen in love with my library as a space to write and read surrounded by books and people who, for the most part, seem to also be readers and writers. Mostly, I’ve been driving up there but a few times recently, I’ve enjoyed the ride. So after checking the weather forecast for this week, I’d earmarked today as a day to ride. I loaded up my lunch, my notebooks, and books into my panniers and set off, helmeted and ready for the two miles or so.

    I live right next to a very busy highway that varies from 6 to 8 lanes. The library is on the other side of this road so I have to cross it at some point to get there. Lately, I’ve been using an unmarked crosswalk without a signal. Early enough in the day, there’s been a long enough break in the traffic that it’s a very lowrisk crossing.

    I’d pulled over to rest on a curb and to wait for an opening in the traffic when I saw the markings on the asphalt on the roadway in front of me. Blue and orange spray painted circles dotted the intersection. They might as well have been hieroglyphics. I did not understand them. But I did know why they were there.

    On Sunday evening, driving back from a family visit, there was an unusual amount of traffic along our residential streets. I conjectured that something was going on one of the arterial roads that was pushing traffic onto these side streets. Sure enough, after I pulled into our driveway, I went out to the highway to see the blue and red lights of emergency vehicles circling around. Eventually, two neighbors passing by informed me that a driver had hit a pedestrian and the roads were closed.

    So here I was staring at the orange and blue circles that meant something specific to someone about the events of Sunday evening. All they meant to me as I sat on my bike waiting for an opening in the traffic was that a person had been hit along this road. Again.

    The police would report that it was a 13 year old girl attempting to cross the highway who was in critical condition at an area hospital. This information was repeated by local news outlets. However, I heard from a reliable source that a teenage boy (a student at the nearby high school) had been hit by a car on Sunday evening along the same highway. So either the victim was misidentified or two people were hit by drivers along the same highway the same night. As unlikely as it might be, the latter isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. In the last four months, drivers have hit three other people in a slightly more than one square mile area. All three were killed.

    On the side of this highway, waiting for a break in the traffic, I wonder whether the drivers are thinking about the young person who was struck at this intersection like I am. I know that crossing this road is the most dangerous part of my ride to the library. I consider walking my bike up to a marked crosswalk with a signal, but both of those are a distance to walk especially pushing a bike on the narrow sidewalks. And then I have to consider my ride back home.

    So I climb off my bike and turn it around. As I’m riding back to my house, I consider whether or not I should just drive up to the library. Even if it is safer, I don’t really want to be another driver on the road. I’m lucky. I have a nice, safe house with most of what I need (other than, of course, the community of people at the library). I don’t have to go anywhere and even though I really could use the exercise and fresh air and human interaction, I have to weigh those benefits against the stress of trying to walk or bike safely within this infrastructure built for cars.

    Here I am, back at my house, having chosen the “not to bike” option. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad and disappointed. How I’d rather be at sitting at the library seeing those increasingly familiar faces, writing about something more joyful than drivers killing and maiming people, my neighbors. But this is what’s on my heart. And it’s honest. So at least there’s that.

  • Critical Response Process (aka “Gentle Workshop”)

    I learned this alternative process for a writing workshop from the poet, teacher, and writing mentor Ariana Brown. These are the five steps:

    1. The readers (viewers/ audience/ workshop mates) give statements of meaning.
    2. The writer (artist/ speaker/ performer, etc..) asks questions and can state their goals.
    3. The readers pose neutral (non-judgmental) questions and the artist can respond to those questions.
    4. The readers ask for consent to share opinion statements, ideas, suggestions. If the writer consents, the reader shares their thought.
    5. The writer can answer the question: “What are your next steps?”

    I’m going to delve a bit more deeply into how each of these five steps work and to give more information about my experiences with workshopping my writing both with a more “traditional” style of feedback and using Critical Response Process.

    I have an MFA in writing and a BS in English Education. I’ve experienced writing workshop since I was in elementary school and studied how to give feedback as a teacher and I’ve received feedback as a student in various workshops. For the most part the way that I’ve experienced feedback has been what I view as “traditional.” The workshop is comprised of a group of writers and one teacher/ leader/ expert writer. Each week (or however often they meet), writers turn in their writing so that the whole group has time to read ahead of meeting. In the meeting, each of the pieces that was shared ahead of time is “workshopped”.

    Up until this point, the Critical Response Process and the traditional workshop are the same. Here’s where they diverge.

    In the traditional workshop (as I have experienced it), each reader comments on the piece in turn. Other than clarifying questions, the writer is largely silent. In general, each reader shares their thoughts in a “compliment sandwich”: a positive comment, a suggestion, and then concluding with another positive comment. I’ve never had a workshop leader say that this is how it must be done, but it seems that everyone kind of just defaults to this way of commenting. Once everyone in the workshop has shared their thoughts, the workshop leader then usually wraps up the discussion with some sort of unifying overarching comments about the piece. At some point, the writer will have a one-on-one meeting about their writing with the teacher. (Of course, some writing workshops are peer-to-peer in which case there’s no private meeting and no one wraps up the discussion in a sort of “expert” way.)

    In retrospect, I can see how this format is not centered on the artist and their needs. The comments, at times, were rather arbitrary and based more on what the workshop mates wanted to talk about than what the artist needed.

    My experience with the Critical Response Process was very different. Here are some examples of how each step might be worded.

    1. Statements of meaning might include particular phrases or sentences, lines or images that resonated for the reader. It might also include what the reader took away from the piece of writing. Not everyone must comment during this part of the process. I found this to be a very nurturing and supportive place to start the whole process.
    2. The writer or artist might ask how the readers responded to specific images, language, moments, the form, etc… of the piece of work. They might ask for help sorting through parts they found particularly tricky or if the reader needed more explanation. I found this very helpful as a writer because it allowed me to ask for help where I needed it rather than just waiting to see if someone else brought it up. In addition, as a reader, it was helpful to learn where the writer specifically wanted help.
    3. Some examples of neutral questions, “How did you choose this topic?” “How did you decide what form to use?” “Where did you get your inspiration for this line?” I experienced this part of the whole process as driven by genuine curiosity. As a writer, it actually felt good that the readers were so curious about my process and my decisions. And as a reader, this often lead to rich discussions about process and a way to learn about other artists and how they work.
    4. At first, I was confused about asking for consent, but once I saw it modeled for me, it made sense. “I have an opinion about the title of this piece. Would you like to hear it?” Or “A piece of writing that reminds me of your poem. Can I recommend something that you might want to read?” Or “I have an idea about where you might submit this work. Would you like to know about that?” It was all very gentle and, for the most part, it just gave the writer more ideas and just furthered the discussion of their work and often contextualized it in a very empowering way. And once I saw it in action, I understood the consent piece. As a writer, I understood how maybe sometimes I just wasn’t in a place where I wanted to hear an opinion about something about my work and it was empowering to know that I could disregard what was said. Also, as a reader, it slowed down my response and reminded me that the person on the other side of the Critical Response is a human being.
    5. It was very nice to end the discussion back with the artist rather than the “expert” or “leader”. To me that was an empowering part of the experience and it served as a reminder that, actually, when it comes to my writing, I’m the expert.

    I found this process of giving and receiving feedback to be much more focused on the need’s of the artist, gentler, and more supportive than the more “traditional” workshops that I had experiences. I’ve also found that I can use a similar process to edit and revise and look at my own work. I don’t always need a whole group. And this has made me much gentler with my own writing.

  • Letting my future self off the hook.

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe one simple thing you do that brings joy to your life.
    View all responses

    Sometimes my present self makes pretty heavy demands on my future self, expecting her to be perfect and in control at all times, expecting her to have thought through everything, every eventuality and every possibility.

    But sometimes my present self lets my future self off the hook. It’s not really hard to do. She doesn’t even exist yet, after all. We have no idea what she will be capable of or what difficulties she might have to face. So my present self just lets her be, allows her to emerge how and when she needs to, taking over for us.

    When I can do this for her, when I can let her off the hook, give her the benefit of the doubt, it brings me immense joy. And she feels it too.

    ******************

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Legacy: Locked and Loaded

    Daily writing prompt
    What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
    View all responses
    Trying something new here. Just a short, unplanned audio file — almost like a spontaneous monologue in English.

    Earlier this week, I had the thought that I wanted to start posting a weekly summary of the previous day’s blog posts. Every day, I waffle back and forth on whether to email to my subscribers or just post to my blog when I hit that publish button. I understand that daily emails are, well, a lot. For everyone. More importantly, looking back at what I’ve posted each week is an opportunity for me to sit back and celebrate what I’ve done.

    As I was searching for when to start my first weekly “round up”, it felt serendipitous that the daily prompt was about legacy. Because the answer to what I want my legacy to be is THIS. Yes, this blog. But also THIS LIFE. I want to feel that everything I’ve done is a legacy. Yes, writing in this blog is part of that but really that’s only the tip of the iceberg of my life lived.

    More to the point: my legacy doesn’t have to do with a past or future self. It doesn’t have to do with how I impact other people or even the world around me. My legacy is in this moment. In each moment. And for me.

    Fruits first. (Wednesday, May 14):

    Of course I must begin with the Queen of Fruit: mangosteen. I cannot forget her king, durian.

    Their princess: the jackfruit.

    What is the custard apple’s role in this food court?

    Leader or follower? (Thursday, May 15):

    I’m a leader following myself… or maybe a follower leading myself?

    Either way, this post also includes a two-player cooperative video game recommendation.

    Ring, skin, mask, burdens, truth. (Friday, May 16)

    The summary for the answer to this day’s prompt reads like a riddle.

    And this one is actually a bit of a game. (Saturday, May 17)

    … and hopefully the “prize” is a lesson in how to center oneself while also trying to parent.

    Y’all, I was FED UP in this post. (Sunday, May 18)

    … but I still managed to include one book recommendation. If nothing else, I’m learning a lot about making myself visible in a world that chooses to ignore me.

    Dreams can be powerful. (Monday, May 19)

    This one includes three book recommendations (two novels and one nonfiction book) about dreams and dreaming (the nighttime story). And there’s a personal story embedded about how I found an answer to a problem in a dream.

    Surviving Extremes with Koselig, Sabai, and Balance (Tuesday, May 20)

    I think that the title says what this one is about. It’s in response to how I feel about cold weather.

    *********************************

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post about daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers (just like this one!). Thank you!

  • Becoming unraveled with this question: leader or follower?

    Daily writing prompt
    Are you a leader or a follower?
    View all responses

    A few months ago, my husband bought a two-player cooperative video game called “Unravel Two.” Soon after, my son asked me to play it with him. I’m not a huge video game player. I’ll play the occasional round or two of Mario Cart and I think I might have an animal crossing account that hasn’t been opened in years. I sometimes like to watch the kids play something, but if it’s something they’re really excited about, I’d rather hear about it from their perspective.

    So sitting down to play with him was a novel experience for me. And for him.

    It’s a charming game centered around two small yarn creatures who are attached to each other with a string. They have to work in tandem to swing from place to place, build bridges, jump and climb through various scenes. It’s a bit like parkour. When we sat down to play, the duo was in a park and had somehow gotten so tangled up in what looked like a bike rack that we had no choice but to start the scene over. As a knitter, the whole thing was very relatable. As a non-gamer, it was, well, not.

    My son tried to teach me what buttons to push when and I managed to muddle through some sections. Thankfully, my character could also jump on his back sometimes and we could piggy back our way through bits and pieces. But that didn’t work for everything. Sometimes, he just took my controller and pushed the buttons to move my avatar. But there were times where both the little red one and the little blue one had to be moving simultaneously. Sometimes one had to lead and the other had to follow. Connected, as they were, with this yarn umbilicus, both had a role to play.

    My son was immensely patient with me. Probably far more patient than I sometimes am when I’m trying to get him to do something in person. This is in an of itself a lesson to me about leadership and much more.

    So what’s the answer to the question?

    I’m a leader following myself.

    *************************

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. 

  • Writing this post is one small improvement I’m making in my life.

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
    View all responses

    An underground lagoon of water inside a cave. On hot days, it is cooling. On cold ones, it’s a hot spring. Either way, it is eternally refreshed by a constant stream of clean, fresh water. High above the pool, there is a space in the rock ceiling through which sun and moon light alternating stream through. The sunlight feeds the mosses and ferns that grow on rock outcroppings on the walls.

    This cave can be accessed from a tunnel. But at first, the tunnel was very small. I’ve had to dig out the tunnel bit by bit to get to the pool. I shoveled and scraped a little bit here and there, carried out the dirt and stones back out of the back of the tunnel. I had to carry it some distance from the entrance lest it built up too high and the whole thing caved in. One day, I could finally see the pool clearly. And so I kept going. Each day, the work of widening the tunnel and carrying out the garbage became easier and easier. I could even say that I enjoyed it a bit, even though it was work.

    Finally, I could reach the pool. I swam and rested. I drank the clear water. I floated and let the water hold me. It flowed around me. I could stay in here forever. But I won’t.

    The world above would miss me if I stayed here.

    And in any case, the pool is infinite, ubiquitous, ever-present. All the work I put in wasn’t for nothing, after all.

    When I started writing this blog, I didn’t set out to write every day. Even once I found the daily prompts (or they found me, perhaps?), I didn’t set a goal to respond to them every day. And yet, here I am, having just posted to this blog fifty days in a row. I didn’t ever set this as a goal. Still, it feels like something of a milestone which, in turn, feels like an appropriate moment for reflection.

    Or not.

    I had this sort of idea in the back of my head that at some point, maybe today, I’d write a “what I learned from blogging for fifty days in a row” post. Or “what happened when I blogged daily.” Or “the benefits of posting everyday.” My understanding is that those are very SEO friendly terms … or something. (The word “understanding” is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.)

    But none of this has been about pleasing any other person (much less an algorithm, search engine, or even, I’m sorry to say, readers). It’s been about me. Making myself content. Giving myself space. I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s been about digging towards that pool of my own creativity. And there’s still possibility there.

    So. Will I be back tomorrow?

    I really don’t know. Because the other thing this has been about has been to give myself permission to just be in each moment, to do the things that feel most nourishing to me, to always look for opportunities to extend myself grace. Who knows what tomorrow’s daily prompt will bring?

    I’m just focused on the grace, the space, the nourishment of this moment, this breath.

    ***************

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. 

  • Once again: me, myself, & these writers.

    Daily writing prompt
    List the people you admire and look to for advice…
    View all responses

    I admire myself and I look to myself for advice. I’ve been through some stuff and I’m unlike anyone else in the world, so I’m the best person to look to for advice. No one else understands me as well as I understand myself.

    Just earlier today, I was feeling rather anxious. I asked myself what I needed and then, based on the answer, I sat down and wrote in my journal for a while to sort and sift through my anxiety and other feelings. By the end, I came to a sort of piece of advice for myself. This advice was uniquely tailored to me and this situation and yet, it’s something that I will be able to return to again and again when I feel similarly anxious in the future. And maybe at some point I’ll be able to share this advice through my writing and it will be helpful to someone else.

    I also admire and seek advice from a great many writers. Here are some blog posts I’ve written about books that have helped me over the past year or so.

    Hood Wellness by Tamela J. Gordon

    The Man Who Could Move Clouds by Ingrid Rojas Contreras

    Bad Indians by Deborah A Miranda

    Remember Who The F*ck You Are by Candyss Love

    Black Liturgies by Cole Arthur Riley

    Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde

    I will be writing about more books by writers that I admire and from whose wisdom and advice I’ve benefited, learned, and grown. If you’re interested in more book recommendations, please subscribe!

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support.