A Few More Sentences – 36
Binaakwi-Giizis (Leaves Falling 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 THIRTY-SIXTH EDITION! of the monthly sentences. That is THREE UNINTERRUPTED YEARS! of sharing this practice with you and I can’t believe that much time has passed. It’s great to have been here doing this for that long, and it’s even better knowing that some of you have been around for every iteration of this. I really, really love that.
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 efforts, and something within the reach of anyone who simply wants to be a more attentive participant in their own life.
Friends, before I continue, I’d be remiss if I don’t mention that the next big announcement post-inaugural IPFEST will go out probably later this week, early next. If you want to get on board with being first to know of such things, visit HERE and scroll to the bottom of the page to sign up for updates! We will be announcing the first round of confirmed presenters, including the 2026 headliner. We can hardly contain our excitement!
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….
First, Live events! Heads up Kalispell, MT, Vancouver, WA, and Portland, OR!
Tuesday, 11/04, 6:00pm, Flathead Valley Community College (Arts & Technology Building, Room 139), Kalispell, MT, Details HERE
Thursday, 11/06, 7:00pm, White Oak Books, Vancouver, WA, HERE
Saturday, 11/08, 1:45pm, Portland Book Festival, Portland, OR, Details HERE
Now, the Sentences!
2025_1001: Come to find out, the oddly unmoving, curiously-dressed children up the street I assumed to be gathered to wait for the school bus are just the result of someone in the neighborhood being right on time with their Halloween decorations.
2025_1002: A visit with friends whose fortunes have lurched upward, I spend a couple hours of driving reflecting on what a more rustic “return to the land” style living would feel like, particularly in an unfamiliar landscape.
2025_1003: Eyes flutter open from where I sit on the ground dozing in the shade of a formation called “Natural Bridge” whose name is actually accurate though the creek is dry, waking at the insistent whistle of a female cardinal perched on a branch barely an arm’s-length away staring at me as if to say, “Hey buddy, is everything okay?”
2025_1004: Armed rent-a-cops at the quasi-christian enclave is a curious and unsettling look.
2025_1005: Waving white flags before me as I approach along the nature trail at morning’s first light.
2025_1006: For all the online videos highlighting bad behavior, on reflection I’m struck by the myriad displays of simple kindnesses exhibited stranger-to-stranger every time I travel by airplane.
2025_1007: The rarest of days, entirely unscheduled.
2025_1008: If every person I meet who claims to be a direct descendant of Chief Little Shell himself actually is one, then he must have had about fifty kids.
2025_1009: An unanticipated collision with several familiar spirits is just the thing to raise mine from the doldrums.
2025_1011: Hope is community building behind enemy lines at a major university in Minnesota, and the young people making it happen.
2025_1012: Leaving the big city I’ve come to appreciate more with every visit, this time the thing I will miss most are the knots of Somali women encountered, young and old, a hajib framing every face, every face beautiful.
2025_1013: Woke up with a lot of joy over my favorite-since-I-was-ten-years-old baseball team being the closest team in the league to the World Series, then took to my bed later with them STILL in that for-the-first-time-in-their-history position.
2025_1014: A long overdue trip to the gym followed by band practice and I’m reminded of every laboring instant of my advancing age.
2025_1015: More than half-a-dozen hours in a car is excellent counter-recovery for leg day.
2025_1016: At day’s end six must-flush-manually urinals in a row in the conference men’s room, each simmering with the golden remnants of their unflushed contents.
2025_1017: Regularly leaving the best company behind is the price to be paid with this hit-and-run living.
2025_1018: Sliding behind the wheel for an early trip to the airport, hard frost on the windshield for the first time this season.
2025_1019: The dead stare from the airport sandwich maker indicates she’s encountered this archetype before.
2025_1020: On the Hi-Line, where music and poetry meet is the beginning of a scheme.
2025_1021: As another travel day looms, the genius of simplifying the effort via the crafty execution of frequent flyer miles over driving is even more apparent and appreciated.
2025_1022: Never more thrilled to be a distant bookseller’s second recommendation.
2025_1023: Breathless from the beauty of rain from the storm reflecting the vastness of sky in pools formed from rippling depressions across the broad expanse of slickrock.
2025_1024: Which the greater affront to the breakfast plate: the limp bacon hardly changed color on the grill lumped in a sad pile on the plate, or the egregiously under-toasted English muffin?
2025_1025: Steady rain as bedtime looms, the chimes on the porch sounding the call to lights-out.
2025_1026: Morning coffee serenaded by the dripping remnants of last night’s deluge.
2025_1027: What kindness expressed by the surprising number of people who chose to gather in the afternoon to support a friend while patiently enduring the blathering of a wayfaring stranger.
2025_1028: At five spirits, the concentration of Little Shell members gathered at a table in a high end mile high restaurant could almost be considered a powwow.
2025_1029: Early flight out of Denver and I’m already struck by the impatient traffic getting to the airport, the press of surly bodies in shuttles and security queues, the irritated barkings of TSA agents and, now aboard, the tinny almost unintelligible blaring from vessel speakers about buckling this and securing that, all while two people all but shout their relentless conversation directly behind me, and there is no peace in any of this din.
2025_1030: Eleven years on and well grayed myself, I feel I understand the burdens my father carried better than ever.
2025_1031: The veil thinning, Biboonikeonini spends the morning at his workbench.
10-31. I went looking for info on Biboonikeonini and found this lovely piece about celebrating stars and dark sky places, Indigenous star knowledge, and stewardship of the night sky: https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/northern-nights-starry-skies.htm
The world needs more this: "2025_1030: Eleven years on and well grayed myself, I feel I understand the burdens my father carried better than ever." And it fascinates me that it comes the day after something the world needs less of. Does the thing we need less of leave us open to the thing we need more of?