A Few More Sentences – 22
A Few More Sentences – 22
Manoominike-giizis (Ricing Moon) Edition
Boozhoo, indinawemaaganidog! Aaniin! That is to say hello, all of my relatives! Welcome to another edition of An Irritable Métis. In this case, I am happy to present the TWENTY-SECOND EDITION! of the monthly sentences.
For those LEGIONS! of you new here this monthly edition, where I post the daily, single sentences that I’ve accumulated for the month-just-ended, is based on the practice that ultimately led to my first book, One-Sentence Journal, back in 2018.
It’s a simple practice and fulfilling … and also maybe not so simple as it may seem. Regardless, the practice is excellent training for paying attention to the small moments of my life, and I enjoy sharing those moments here. As always, I deeply appreciate your time and attention. If you feel compelled to offer up a few of your own observations in the comments, I would love to see them.
Normally I post these earlier in the month and some of you may be wondering if I’d forgotten. I did, sort of! Or at least I’d remember that I still needed to post them when I was somewhere doing something where I couldn’t do anything about it … like driving! So my apologies for leaving so many of you on the very edges of your seats in anticipation of their arrival. The wait is over!
Speaking of which, all the time behind the wheel lately out promoting Becoming Little Shell has had me in almost constant reflection on this idea of being a full-time writer and what is really making it work. I’ll likely write more on this subject, but it has become clear to me – based on the people showing up for events, and where the bulk of book sales seem to be coming from – that this newsletter has been the key to whatever success has come in the wake of its release. More than “important” reviews in “important” publications, mentions in this place or that, whatever … this newsletter – all of you – are really making it happen. My gratitude overflows. I will never underestimate what the interactions here mean and I don’t take it lightly, even if I’m wildly inconsistent in when I publish. I’m pretty sure the bulk of you who have been here a while understand. I’ve also been very pleased to meet so many of you in person over the last couple weeks and I hope that continues.
This morning I’m writing in the wee hours from a hotel in Portland. It’s the only stop where I had a night off which means I get to spend two nights in one place and of course this first one I find myself utterly incapable of sleep. Figures. At least it’s given me an opportunity to get these sentences out in the world. I hope you enjoy them. And if you do, or you enjoy anything about this newsletter, please consider a paid subscription. Your support is more important than ever….
2024_0801: Unprecedented in recent memory, I begin August clad in long pants.
2024_0802: Stolen moments in the middle of the maelstrom.
2024_0803: Standing at the headwaters that inspired a conquest, today there is only recreation.
2024_0804: A longer distance between two points, Belgrade to Gardiner: putting a big, magnificent Park between them.
2024_0805: Eternal gratitude to the guide who reveals this gorgeous now-and-forever lunch location on Slough Creek.
2024_0806: Weary and slouching in my seat like a rumpled and oversized dufflebag slumped and forgotten against the back of a chair.
2024_0807: Departing Yellowstone I find, once again, that much of me has chosen to remain in anticipation of the joyful reunion when I return.
2024_0808: Has Missoula truly become so tedious, or is it just my resentment of constant errands that has me less interested in leaving the house when I manage to find myself here?
2024_0809: The intern interviewing me with well-considered questions provides an unanticipated reminder that not everyone is out to do little more than phone everything in.
2024_0810: A brace of sandhill cranes soar like prehistoric relics over Grass Valley.
2024_0811: With less effort than anticipated the storage shed is transformed into a veritable temple of strac.
2024_0812: Not so many weeks ago a hair past 5 in the AM was a perfect time to take to the porch with a hot cup of coffee to enjoy the cool morning in the earliest light and now it feels like the middle of the night.
2024_0813: A most curious paucity of introduction means I’m not the only one wondering who I am and why I’m talking.
2024_0814: TCBing from a desk in my room at the Doubletree I’m grateful for the unscheduled hours to marginally turn back the deluge.
2024_0815: Amazed to wake up in a room full of sunshine.
2024_0816: Nearly lost on a sweaty walk through a magnificent village of abundant teepees and horses in every direction.
2024_0817: Plans for next year already forming in the wake of an early departure.
2024_0818: The rarest occasion and luxury to spend the entire day at home.
2024_0819: Morning commitments devolve into afternoon torpor.
2024_0820: Anything but anticlimactic, the day delivers abundant uplift through the support of so much kindness.
2024_0821: As if to cleanse me of the greasiness of the preceding hour, the drum breaks open my heart and flushes every bit of anything that isn’t love out.
2024_0822: The effort may seem marginally noble on paper, but the target audience is out for product, not progress, as shown by the staggering queue for merch at the Big Rock Show.
2024_0823: A prayer bundle makes its way through the hands of every person turned-out in the park and into the deepest chamber of my heart.
2024_0824: If there is a future I would like to see, it would be the glimpse of a massive gathering of a distant generation beneath the embrace of the magnificent new powwow arbor.
2024_0825: A usually reliable diner does its best to permanently put me off my feed.
2024_0826: A single day at home isn’t enough to prepare for a week on the road.
2024_0827: Dawn in the windshield and geese in the sky make for a lovely morning of driving.
2024_0828: Another People’s House – this one in Billings – more than lives up to its name as the event coordinator goes in search of more chairs.
2024_0829: I am so moved by how the Montana capitol turned out to celebrate the story of my people, even before the steakhouse, in the most excellent of company, served up a delicious plate of buffalo.
2024_0830: I make a triumphant return to the settling place of my ancestors where I am greeted by kindness and the warmest of welcomes.
2024_0831: Winging it through a presentation well short of noon, I am rescued by relatives from the north side of the Medicine Line.
Every time I read fully through a month of sentences, my heart is full, my spirit alive and more pieces of connection to place and people takes place in my thoughts. Thanks my friend for all you bring to me through your gift of the written word.🙏♥️✍️
Both of these sentences are from Sept 1:
* If I were a prairie dog, I wouldn't have slept through so much of the glory of this morning's coming of the sun back into the world.
* Today, I walk in gratitude that the earth holds me up, gravity holds me down, and a small bird flies through the sky above, blessing everything with her wingbeats.