In August of 2019 I ventured out to join the Freeflow Institute for my first workshop with them. I had been invited by the writer David James Duncan to join him as a “guest instructor” for the day, working with about a dozen or so other writers from the banks of the storied Blackfoot River. It was beautiful, and hot, and minutes after we gathered in a circle of camp chairs in the early morning to get things started a large mountain lion appeared on the opposite bank and just sauntered along while we all watched, dumbstruck. It was beautiful. The water was low and the paddling was slow but I don't think anyone minded (except maybe the guides manning the oars of the rafts). Sitting on the back of a raft, in the sun, one foot dangling in the water, no one talking to me, I felt in my element.
Less beautiful was the news I carried with me to the folks on the river: not one, but two mass shootings had occurred in America since the group had put in on the river the day before. One at a Walmart in El Paso (23 people killed) and another just half-a-day later at a bar in Dayton, Ohio (10 people killed). David and Chandra (Brown, the director of Freeflow) and I discussed a means to somehow recognize what had happened, what happens all too often. David had with him an advanced reading copy of a book he was key in bringing into the world: One Long River of Song, a collection of essays by the prolific, late author Brian Doyle. As we gathered at the riverside campfire, David said a few words, then asked if I would read a particular essay from the Doyle book called “Dawn and Mary.” He asked that I read it because he knew he wouldn't be able to get through it without breaking down in tears. So of course I read the piece, and I barely made it through myself.
In January of 2020, just before Covid closed everything down, the Doyle book was released. We had an event for it at Fact & Fiction and it was one of the best I have ever been part of. Six of us each read one of the Doyle pieces from the book. Katie Yale — who was also instrumental in putting the book together with David, and with then-editor of Orion Magazine, Chip Blake — read first. Missoula writers Melissa Stephenson and Chris Dombrowski read. Ana Maria Spagna, who was the William Kittridge Distinguished Visiting Writer that year, read. David James Duncan read. And I read “Dawn and Mary” again only this time I couldn't help but weep openly before I was even halfway through. It was a beautiful night with a room full of people. It was like one imagines the best possible worship service to be: powerful and spiritual and shuddering with emotion. And as I recollect that night, I am reminded just how fortunate I am to know all of these people, and to be able to share the work of someone as brilliant as Brian Doyle together with them.
I mention all of this because I am back teaching children on the reservation again. The first day there I experienced my first ever “lockdown drill” in the event of a shooter confronting the school. Consequently I've been thinking of the “Dawn and Mary” essay a lot. Thoughts of "Please not here!" and "What will I do if it happens?" and all of that. The essay was originally published by The Sun magazine. It is very short. You may read it HERE. I urge you to please do so.
Speaking of Gratitude
I've been quite blown away by the response from my last post, my anti-social media diatribe. Both in the comments and through personal messages I've received. Just when I think it's time to go full Han Shan and lock myself inside a mountain you people rise up and remind me that many of you are truly special. Thank you. I'll probably lay low on the Twitter through the month or so, then I might crack that door open a little again....
The Heart’s Work
Last October I was invited to participate in the first of two release celebrations for the magnificent new collection of Jim Harrison's poetry called Complete Poems. It was a glorious event and if you are so inclined you can watch it HERE. But this very night, Wednesday, December 8th, there is the second and final release event happening via zoom. You may register HERE. It features two of Harrison’s editors, his travel buddy, and a renowned poet. Best of all it's free! I am definitely checking it out. It should be interesting and fun.
This Thing Again?
Good news! Registrations for my Silence: The Daily Practice workshop in Yellowstone National Park, from the Lamar Buffalo Ranch, have reached the minimum so it’s happening!
Better news! There are still (a few) spaces left! I know the cap is 12 students and I don’t know how many have signed up yet but the window is closing. It takes some commitment to get to, I know, but it will be so worth it. Trust me.
Here is what the workshop is (allegedly) about:
Silence and observation are key to the creative process, whether that process is found in some discipline of art or in simply maintaining a well-lived life. This workshop will focus on writing, even if you don’t consider yourself a “writer.” It will feature unique exercises that include sitting in observation; walking as a key element in breaking free creative energy; and practicing live storytelling. You will be encouraged to recognize the importance of making time for reflection; to celebrate the absolute importance of being curious and kind; and to recognize the importance of your personal story.
If you’ve got time and some extra money, you can register here. It should be gorgeous there by February.
Oh, and Now This Other Thing
My first event of 2022 is going to be an online Little Shell/Métis discussion for Swan Valley Connections. It should be great. Also free! You may register HERE if you are so inclined. SVC are beautiful people and I'm always happy to do work for them. This one will be a slight variation on what I usually do on this theme and I’m looking forward to it.
So Shameless, This Hussle
The holidays are nigh upon us! Give the gift of Irritability! The supply chain screeches on, unbroken….
You can also get One-Sentence Journal, still going strong more than three years later, HERE.
And the new one, Descended from a Travel-worn Satchel HERE.
Both books make wonderful gifts.
Or just gift yourself. Is that so bad? Subscribe to this newsletter and it will be a gift for me too. Truly.
And Finally….
At risk of this post being overwhelmingly about ME, I want to share this full-page spread that appeared in Butte’s Montana Standard newspaper a couple weeks ago. It ran right after I left my residency there. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen that often and I love it. I love Butte!
Let’s be brave and loving out there, people. Good stuff does happen, doesn’t it?
Thank you for linking to the essay honoring Dawn and Mary. My brain immediately linked two parts of your essay - Butte and school shootings. Butte experienced one of the early school shootings when 11-year-old Jeremy Bullock was killed in 1994. How many students, teachers and staff have been gunned down since then? I know those words sound brutal; but that is the reality. How many education conferences have addressed this horrific topic in the past 27 years? And yet, the horror continues. How many more will die while our politicians send thoughts and prayers? Our hearts break each time we hear the now familiar news of another shooting.
"If we ever forget that all children are our children, then we are fools who have allowed memory to be murdered too, and what good are we then?"
I fear memory is being murdered by our sense of inevitability and helplessness. Dawn and Mary's families remember. Bill and Robin Bullock continue to advocate for school safety in Jeremy's memory.
https://www.mtpr.org/montana-news/2019-08-21/25-years-later-parents-of-butte-school-shooting-victim-speak-out
May we never become desensitized to this horror. May we never look away.
What a great layout. Proud of you! Dawn and Mary was beautifully crafted. We won't forget. Your one-sentence journal reminds me of the idea of lumens--see below. I wrote a thing like Lexington House a while back, made of lumens.
Lumens*
The bone-pot simmers, the lemon blossom fades.
The last leaf falls.
Regardez, beside the line of roses braving the November air,
just beyond the sage-green shutters to where
a would-be novelist blackens white pages in her chill room.
See you all when winter’s come.
*The lumen is a measure of the total amount of visible light. Also: A very short poem or line of poetry -- idea named by poet Olga Broumas.