“Knowing How to Yield is Strength”
Dear Writing Friends:
It is Monday morning and I am sitting on an old Adirondack chair on my deck. It’s faded from being left outside during too many rainstorms, and it creaks when I move. But it’s a gorgeous day—blue skies and a good breeze. I’m meeting a friend to walk at Town Lake this afternoon while Shira is in rehearsal, although I may need to cancel. Lately my daughter needs me nearby.
Shira is going through what I hope is a phase. She has taken to worrying about her breathing, her tummy, and her teeth. She is afraid of dying. Veteran moms tell me this type of worrying is typical of her age. Around eight and a half or nine years old, the world gets bigger. Science is on her radar now, but so are mortality and war. The age of imagination has been replaced with reality.
Last Thursday, while Steve was out of town and I was impersonating a single mom, Shira woke up feeling down and droopy. She was worried about her tummy and didn’t want to go to school. I sat at the dining room table with her and tried to convince her she should go. The class was having a poetry reading at 10:30, and the teacher was serving hot chocolate.
“You don’t want to miss that, do you?” I said.
“Let me think about it,” she said, and she disappeared into her room.
Admittedly I was tired of dealing with the worry over her tummy. I wanted time alone. And I was counting on the school day to work. I had a calendar marked with due dates and deadlines.
At 7:30, five minutes before we were due to leave the house, Shira came to me still dressed in her nightclothes. She had black circles under her eyes. The school year had been busy with shows, rehearsals, dance lessons, voice lessons, not to mention homework, the Science Fair, and various other school activities and competitions. Maybe she needed to slow down.
“Why don’t you take the day and just relax,” I said. “You can read your poetry for me and Daddy later.” Shira’s shoulders fell from her ears and her face brightened. I felt my load lighten, too. “Thank you, Mommy!” she cried, throwing her arms around me.
The truth was I needed that day off, too. For weeks I had been waking up with tension headaches. Most mornings I shoved Shira out the door and rushed to the kitchen cabinet to find the Advil. My back-to-back deadlines had been my top priority—even when it was clear my daughter was suffering and needed more attention.
Shira and I got dressed and went to Russell’s with our notebooks. She ate a cherry Danish and I drank green tea. While I scribbled some notes for an essay, she drew a picture of herself with a long caption. “Thank you for letting me stay home, Mommy,” she wrote. “I love you, so, so much.”
I had a massage scheduled at noon and we shared it. I held Shira’s hand and kissed her forehead as she lay on the table with her eyes closed. By the end of the day, we had reestablished our bond. At 5:00 I sent her off to her rehearsal and squeezed in some writing. I actually accomplished as much that day as I would have if I had sent her to school.
My writing and my life are so interconnected, I sometimes forget to notice the correspondence between one and the other. When I am fully present in my life, even in difficult times, I write better and more efficiently. Letting go of my habit of hoarding my hours alone, time expands, and I feel more expansive. It is a better place to write from and a better way to live.
Speaking of expansive, I am excited for my summer workshop, “Write from the Bottom of Your Mind.” For six Monday evenings we’ll gather to meditate, slow walk, and do writing practice—making space to clear our minds and connect to ourselves, to our lives, and to our writing. Because I’m limiting my public relations efforts for this class, I’d appreciate your sharing the information with friends and family. Course description and registration form are attached. Also, I’m limiting the class to fifteen students. So if you’re interested, don’t delay. I’m already half full. Lastly, in order to accommodate the neediest students, I am offering a few scholarships and discounts. If you want to take the class and you really, really can’t afford it, contact me and we’ll work something out.
Finally, I’m in the process of revamping my website and the newsletter format. I’ll be making a few changes in the coming months that I hope you’ll like. For starters, I’ll be posting my student’s publications and various local events at the end of every newsletter. If you have something you’d like to share, please let me know.
Writing topic:
What am I hoarding? Where do I need to let go?
The Tao Te Ching, translated by Stephen Mitchell
My best to each of you.
Saundra
Students and Friends
Pat Abrams has a piece in The Austin Cycling Association’s bi-monthly newspaper. This is her fourth article for them. The paper also features a great picture of Pat in full bike gear, with her bike and some donkeys.
Mon. May 17th at 7PM, Join Drashers Neena Husid, Laura Kooris, and Esther Mizrachi Moritz for the first ever Bookwoman (5419 Lamar in Austin, Texas) Salon. Come hear their work, create your own, and dive into the Drash Pit process from prompt development to publication.