A Few More Sentences – 29
Onaabani-Giizis (Hard Crust on the Snow Moon) Edition
Boozhoo, indinawemaaganidog! Aaniin! That is to say hello, all of my relatives! Welcome to another edition of An Irritable Métis. I’m feeling a little ashamed of myself that I only posted two times in March. I work pretty hard to keep expectations low around here when it comes to consistent posting but this is still an unacceptable circumstance. I did get some hard, lingering commitments completed (I think) that were weighing heavily on me so there’s that … but still. It’s not even that this work is drudgery. I like writing newsletters! But sometimes, as in many other aspects of my life, I get caught in a gyre of “I shoulds” and then I get ashamed and farther behind and overwhelmed and suddenly weeks have passed in a sort of paralysis I really, really struggle to free myself from. Does that ever happen to you? It might be my greatest hurdle to overcome….
Anyway, there are always the sentences, and I remain happy to present the TWENTY-NINTH EDITION! of the monthlies. For those 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. This remains the best and most consistent aspect of my writing life, and something within the reach of anyone who simply wants to be a more attentive participant in their own life.
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. If you enjoy these monthly sentences, or you enjoy anything about this newsletter at all, please consider a paid subscription. Your support is more important than ever….
2025_0301: A stunning day contrasted by a curiosity of friends.
2025_0302: Wrestling with concern over the accelerating pace of my life when, to my mind, one of quality demands much more slowness.
2025_0303: The kindness and camaraderie found among members of the book club makes the white knuckles earned driving home in the dark worth it.
2025_0304: After 12+ hours between exiting and then re-entering the front door, I’m reminded how back in my clock-punching days, Tuesdays always seemed the longest.
2025_0305: A trip to the magnificent Swan Valley, a region I always imagined capable of sheltering an underemployed recluse devolved to wit’s end who craves nothing more than solitude and a small place to experience it, but now serves primarily as just another place to retreat to for the wealthy and multi-housed and I could grind my teeth to powder in frustration.
2025_0306: Waiting shoulder-side in the vast open space of the middle of the Northern Cheyenne Reservation with a couple score other vehicles while a backhoe clears the highway of the evidence of our willful and determined destruction as testified by an overturned coal truck and trailer.
2025_0307: Not just a place for a warm gathering of history buffs, the remote town of Ekalaka wins the prize for carrying the name I most like to say out loud.
2025_0308: At the Montana state finals of the Poetry Out Loud competition I am mildly alarmed that in a few weeks I will be one of the national judges because, after none of my favorites make even the top three, clearly I am incapable of recognizing what constitutes a “winner”.
2025_0309: Such darkness returned to accompany my morning after weeks of slow brightening.
2025_0310: A red-tailed hawk swoops drunkenly over Mullan Road and lands atop another hawk perched in a roadside snag and I look away quickly so that they may have their privacy out here in what used to be hinterlands but is not-so-slowly evolving to suburb.
2025_0311: Reflecting after today’s master naturalist class, my desire to pick up squirming relatives or roll over logs or otherwise blunder around in other people’s neighborhoods with complete obliviousness to the quality of their hassle-free lives might be, next to the soulless names bestowed by “science”, the greatest indicator of my failing desire to register myself in this community.
2025_0312: Curious at my interest to find solidarity in a place where potential camaraderie also smells illusory.
2025_0313: Another long day with just a few more words to go before I sleep.
2025_0314: Nookomis so bright this morning it as if she camped out in my front yard to keep my company alone.
2025_0315: First striving light, no sounds but robins, and an afternoon reveal of the first meadowlark sighting of the season near the Bison Range.
2025_0316: A mood dark enough to match the grumpy skies this morning.
2025_0317: Coffee with Indians, and a round of blueberry muffins fresh from the oven for the room.
2025_0318: “Bimosedaa!” my Milkweed friends said, inviting me to spend the day walking together with them.
2025_0319: Telling stories to about 1000 Indians in the morning, and then the rest of the day spent joyfully signing books for one smiling face after another.
2025_0320: The keenest observation from the conference, delivered via a Dakota elder in a wheelchair, in the rezziest accent you can imagine: “Dere’s enough Indins here to make a sequel to Dances wit Wolves!”
2025_0321: A loneliness in the return to a beloved place and its beloved people with only the faintest echoes of this beloved language.
2025_0322: Every word a thorn pulled out, then pushed back in again.
2025_0323: Invisible to the averted eyes.
2025_0324: Joyful connections and re-connections lurk just inside the door that first must be opened.
2025_0325: Sauntering back to the parking lot after evening class and the streetlights are only just beginning to sputter on.
2025_0326: Passing between existential portals otherwise known as airport connections, there are new worlds to step out into with only a little wobbling as reality bends from too much distance, too fast.
2025_0327: A plaque for a church presented to the heavens the same year an entire culture is thrown into irons.
2025_0328: A glory of turkey vultures all across the skies of the Deep South.
2025_0329: Grim reminders that the horrors in the rearview mirror are much closer than they appear.
2025_0330: Long airport layovers make decent writing retreats.
2025_0331: Aginjibagwesi, the little yellow bird, brightening the view out my window and I yearn to accompany him to somewhere better.
Of Particular Interest to Powell, Wyoming Area Friends
I’ve got more public stuff coming up later in the month of April1, but this one next week might be of interest. Are there any Irritable Readers in those parts? I hope so!
A Couple Other Things
I met my Diné friend Bri at IAIA last summer2 when Deborah Taffa invited me there to speak with students. Then we crossed paths again last fall when she was awarded a fellowship with Milkweed. Then a couple weeks ago I got to hang out with her again, along with a few other Milkweed folks, and it was glorious. She wrote this wonderful essay about my time there and I’m not ashamed to admit it made me a little verklempt.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned it since it happened, but BLS is available as an audiobook!3 Does anyone know if the library audio app thing has it? I’m not familiar with that.
Speaking of audio books, in celebration of the month we just staggered out of, I urge everyone to LISTEN TO THIS BOOK!4
Is it too early to mention this? Or too late? I’m going to be way out in New York in June as faculty on this summer’s Orion Environmental Writers’ Workshop (June 15-20, 2025). More info HERE.
That’s all for now, friends. I appreciate your time and attention. Happy April! Which reminds me of a terrible joke I heard at a conference last week. Do you know why Indians hate this month? Because April showers bring May flowers. Get it?
Like, as mentioned a couple weeks ago, a bloviation at the High Desert Museum in Bend, OR; something TBD under the auspices of Montana State University in Bozeman; then this obligatory debacle back at the People’s House in Missoula. Oof.
She’s there getting her MFA in fiction!
That’ s the Libro.fm link. If Audible is your choice, it’s available there too.
I am traveling throughout Spain, Morocco, & Italy and have been doing one sentence/day. My favorite was my first and I will shyly share it here: Traveling has made me dizzy- like traversing into a 4th dimension with the realization of how many now’s are happening all at once all over the universe
I’m enchanted by “a curiosity of friends” and “a glory of turkey vultures”. My thanks again for expanding the wonderful world of words, offering observations with which to ponder.