As I was unpacking a box of books yesterday, I found a folder filled with recipes that my grandmother had saved for me. She gave me the folder last Christmas, some recipes cut out of magazines, some hand-written on note cards.
It seems I come from a long line of sharers. We are always clipping articles or writing down quotations or forwarding blog posts to the people we care about. For whatever reason, it feels like the greatest expression of love to me. It is one thing to casually think of the people you care about, but another to think about what might interest or intrigue them. Sharing those clippings or recipes or what-have-you's is my way of saying that I'm always thinking of you. No matter what I'm watching or reading, I'm thinking of you and wondering if you'd like it too.
My grandma did this for me. My father is always scanning in newspaper clippings and emailing them to me. And I do it for others. Poor, poor Jacob undoubtedly has thousands of archived (or deleted) emails from me linking to news articles and blog posts. My dearest friends get emails from me with recipes that I wish we could make together. And I have a thick file of hand-clipped recipes from my grandma.
My grandma passed away unexpectedly this summer, after I had already packed the recipes up in a box of books. I had forgotten about them until they were uncovered last weekend.
I don't mean to be too sentimental or personal, but only to say these things. 1) Keep doing whatever you do to show people you care. 2) Be grateful for the people who are showing you love in the ways they know how. The world is sparkling and complex and layered and interwoven because people show and appreciate love in all manner of ways. Sharing love and being grateful - well these are the things that make this world beautiful.
And on that note, I guess I'll say that I kind of love you for reading what I write here. Coming on too strong? I've been meaning to incorporate more sharing into this site. I read a truck-load of stuff about art and science and literature and writing and food and politics and culture and...I love sharing. So today, I read this brilliant interview with Lidia Yuknavitch at Freerange Nonfiction. I don't know her work, but I've been reading about her debut novel everywhere. I feel rather moved to get my hands on it now. I've clipped out my favorite bits of the interview below, but please go read the whole thing for yourself. And then share it with someone else with love.
On her writing rituals:
"I write in the afternoons, I write sporadically, and I write in big chunk wads. I usually drink when I write (not copiously or toward drunkardome, just being honest), I meditate before I write to get to a kind of trance-y place, and I don’t edit as I go. I puke on the page and worry about going back in and crafting later. I try, in other words, as hard as I can, to loosen the logic gremlins, the monkey brain, the self-critic. I try to let the unconscious out of her thought prison. I lead with body into language."On losing faith in writing:
"I lose faith daily. Still. I don’t ever have “writer’s block” (I’m not ever sure I believe in it), but I do let writing go all the time. I now understand that’s just part of my personal process, and I embrace it. There are non-writing times and writing times. Like ocean waves. It is enough."On creative lulls:
"Though creative lulls are hard emotionally, I guess I’m glad they happen. I think a lot of subconscious reflection and “cooking” goes on during those times that we are not fully aware of. That’s what I mean when I say I have learned to let them ride, and to trust them – I think important creative work comes from stepping away from the labor. Does that make any sense? The trick is to embrace that idea and not stress so much about it. The thing is? When she comes, she comes. Roaringly. Back."
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