Lisa Bennett's Blog, page 4

On Gay Marriage & Climate Action

Credit: Archibald Jude

The United States Supreme Court ruled today that the right to same-sex marriage is guaranteed under the U.S. Constitution.

Having spent 10 years writing about gay rights, and the past 10 years focused on climate change, I find that the tremendous success of the gay rights movement offers many lessons in how social change happens that are potentially useful to people fighting for climate action.

Of course, there are differences between the movements. Yet there are also many similarities in how Americans have responded to the issues that make the gay rights movement an intriguing model to consider.

First, the differences: 

Personal v. global: Gay rights appear to be deeply personal — about one individual’s love for another. Climate change, in contrast, appears to be a mind-bogglingly complex global issue.
Now v. the future: Gay rights have always appeared to be about right now — the desire to marry now, raise children now, be open now. Climate change, in contrast, has often been characterized as something that will occur in the future (though this too is changing.)
One clear change v. many: Gay rights has one clear clarion call — equality. Climate change, in contrast, seems to require a change in everything: the way we make things, transport things, use things, drive, power our homes, eat, and so on.

Second, the similarities: 

Denial: In the earlier days of the gay rights movement, denial of the reality of a same-sex orientation was rampant — in society, among families, and even within the hearts of many gay and lesbian people themselves. More recently, denial has played a similarly prominent role in discussions of climate change.
Fear: With Caitlyn Jenner’s recent appearance on the cover of Vanity Fair, it may be hard to recall how big a role fear once played for people coming out as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. But prior to the radical growth in public acceptance, it played a very big role indeed. Today, climate change clearly also triggers fear reactions so profound that many people prefer not to think about it.
Debate about nature: Remember the debates about whether sexual orientation was nature or nurture, and whether a gay or lesbian orientation was “natural”? With climate change, we have seen similar debates steeped in confusion about natural changes in the climate v. human-induced changes created by the burning of fossil fuels.
Shaming and stereotyping: Once upon a time, the shaming and stereotyping of gay and lesbian people was quite simply horrific. Growing acceptance has diminished this phenomenon in many (albeit not all) quarters. But similar techniques have surfaced in climate discussions, with those who work for climate action having often been labeled “doom-and-gloomers.”
Silencing: The act of “coming out” as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender is an indication of how powerful the dynamic of silencing or being “in the closet” once was. In anticipation of negative judgments and worse, it seemed for many a natural way to protect themselves. In recent years, even people who care deeply about climate change have told me they don’t bring the topic up to strangers and family members because of similar negative expectations.

Third, the strategies: So in the face of all these challenges, what did the gay rights movement do to become the most successful model of social change in modern American history? Or to put it another way, how did those fighting for gay rights shift their own language and behavior to effectively win over the minds and hearts of so many?

Brilliant legal strategies, grassroots activism, and political acumen clearly had much to do with it. But I would like to highlight seven simpler points:

They encouraged people to talk about it.
They cultivated community.
They had a simple message.
They told personal–and inclusive–stories.
They shattered stereotypes.
They focused on individual, heartfelt human values Americans could get behind (like equality, freedom, and love.)
They stayed positive.

These are all strategies, I believe, that are useful for those communicating about climate action. But perhaps an even simpler way of thinking about what we can learn from the success of the gay rights movement is this: Remember the three perceived differences between the movements I mentioned above? Perhaps they are not so different after all but, in fact, point the way to how to grow acceptance of the need for climate action, namely:

1. Use the deeply personal. Far from an abstraction, climate change is about my kid, your kid, the farmer, the old man with asthma, the single mom whose house was destroyed.

2. Focus on right now. Now is the moment to act — for our health, our children, all living beings, and, yes, future generations.

3. Express one clear message. In the gay rights movement, like other civil rights movement, the demand came down to one word: equality. What if that is what climate change comes down to, as well: the equal right of every human being to enjoy the abundance of natural world, and the equal responsibility of everyone of us to ensure that they do.

For more, see my article on this topic in The Daily Beast and my talk at The Garrison Institute, both of which I drew on for this post.

This posted originally appeared on  The Huffington Post.

Filed under: Change, Climate change, Writing/Creativity Tagged: climate change, communications, gay rights, global warming, social change, social movements, writing

Another Gay Marriage Victory, Another Lesson in Climate Action

Credit: Archibald Jude

The United States Supreme Court ruled today that the right to same-sex marriage is guaranteed under the U.S. Constitution.

Having spent 10 years writing about gay rights, and the past 10 years focused on climate change, I find that the tremendous success of the gay rights movement offers many lessons in how social change happens that are potentially useful to people fighting for climate action.

Of course, there are differences between the movements. Yet there are also many similarities in how Americans have responded to the issues that make the gay rights movement an intriguing model to consider.

First, the differences: 

Personal v. global: Gay rights appear to be deeply personal — about one individual’s love for another. Climate change, in contrast, appears to be a mind-bogglingly complex global issue.
Now v. the future: Gay rights have always appeared to be about right now — the desire to marry now, raise children now, be open now. Climate change, in contrast, has often been characterized as something that will occur in the future (though this too is changing.)
One clear change v. many: Gay rights has one clear clarion call — equality. Climate change, in contrast, seems to require a change in everything: the way we make things, transport things, use things, drive, power our homes, eat, and so on.

Second, the similarities: 

Denial: In the earlier days of the gay rights movement, denial of the reality of a same-sex orientation was rampant — in society, among families, and even within the hearts of many gay and lesbian people themselves. More recently, denial has played a similarly prominent role in discussions of climate change.
Fear: With Caitlyn Jenner’s recent appearance on the cover of Vanity Fair, it may be hard to recall how big a role fear once played for people coming out as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. But prior to the radical growth in public acceptance, it played a very big role indeed. Today, climate change clearly also triggers fear reactions so profound that many people prefer not to think about it.
Debate about nature: Remember the debates about whether sexual orientation was nature or nurture, and whether a gay or lesbian orientation was “natural”? With climate change, we have seen similar debates steeped in confusion about natural changes in the climate v. human-induced changes created by the burning of fossil fuels.
Shaming and stereotyping: Once upon a time, the shaming and stereotyping of gay and lesbian people was quite simply horrific. Growing acceptance has diminished this phenomenon in many (albeit not all) quarters. But similar techniques have surfaced in climate discussions, with those who work for climate action having often been labeled “doom-and-gloomers.”
Silencing: The act of “coming out” as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender is an indication of how powerful the dynamic of silencing or being “in the closet” once was. In anticipation of negative judgments and worse, it seemed for many a natural way to protect themselves. In recent years, even people who care deeply about climate change have told me they don’t bring the topic up to strangers and family members because of similar negative expectations.

Third, the strategies: So in the face of all these challenges, what did the gay rights movement do to become the most successful model of social change in modern American history? Or to put it another way, how did those fighting for gay rights shift their own language and behavior to effectively win over the minds and hearts of so many?

Brilliant legal strategies, grassroots activism, and political acumen clearly had much to do with it. But I would like to highlight seven simpler points:

They encouraged people to talk about it.
They cultivated community.
They had a simple message.
They told personal–and inclusive–stories.
They shattered stereotypes.
They focused on individual, heartfelt human values Americans could get behind (like equality, freedom, and love.)
They stayed positive.

These are all strategies, I believe, that are useful for those communicating about climate action. But perhaps an even simpler way of thinking about what we can learn from the success of the gay rights movement is this: Remember the three perceived differences between the movements I mentioned above? Perhaps they are not so different after all but, in fact, point the way to how to grow acceptance of the need for climate action, namely:

1. Use the deeply personal. Far from an abstraction, climate change is about my kid, your kid, the farmer, the old man with asthma, the single mom whose house was destroyed.

2. Focus on right now. Now is the moment to act — for our health, our children, all living beings, and, yes, future generations.

3. Express one clear message. In the gay rights movement, like other civil rights movement, the demand came down to one word: equality. What if that is what climate change comes down to, as well: the equal right of every human being to enjoy the abundance of natural world, and the equal responsibility of everyone of us to ensure that they do.

For more, see my article on this topic in The Daily Beast and my talk at The Garrison Institute, both of which I drew on for this post.

This posted originally appeared on  The Huffington Post.

Filed under: Change, Climate change, Writing/Creativity Tagged: climate change, communications, gay rights, global warming, social change, social movements, writing

Navigating Information Overload

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AlmaArte Photography

Information overload can spin you in circles. Or you can use it to hone in on what really matters. 

Perfectly healthy young people have been taking themselves to doctors, worried that their forgetfulness is a sign of Alzheimer’s, according to a report last month about doctors in Australia who are studying the phenomenon. But for most of us, growing forgetfulness is little more than a natural reaction to information overload.

Our brains are simply not wired to process the vast amount of information and choices we are exposed to these days—and the impossible effort to do so can lead to indecisiveness, bad decisions and stress, according to Lucy Jo Palladino, Ph.D., a psychologist and author of Find Your Focus Zone.

Information overload can also tempt us to tune out or simply slide across the surface of life—like a water strider on a pond, robbed of the pleasure of a place to land. So what genuinely helps people navigate this Information Age (which, perhaps not coincidentally, has also been called the Age of Anxiety?)

There are lots of suggestions out there in publications such as, Fast Company , Forbes and Aeon. Many discuss the dangers of email and multitasking and the value of daydreaming, taking breaks, going for walks, writing things down, and doing the most important things first. Daniel Goleman also recently wrote about the topic in Focus: The Hidden Driver of Excellence, in which he explores the benefits of mindfulness meditation, focused preparation and recovery, positive emotions and connections, and mental “prosthetics.”

As someone who has an insatiable desire to know and do everything, I’ve also come to find three insights particularly helpful. Rather than concrete actions, they serve more as mindsets or perspectives to take on all that is available to us now—and stay centered on what truly matters to us as individuals.

What’s new is not (necessarily) important. In a recent interview on Krista Tippett’s podcast, On Being, Maria Popova, the creator of Brain Pickings, observed that the way information comes to us today via the Internet constantly reinforces the idea that what is new is what is important and valuable. But this, of course, is not true. Much of what is delivered up as new is neither important nor valuable. To the contrary, it can be a great distraction from what is meaningful—which is often old, timeless, contained in books, in music, in art, and in the hearts and souls of human beings who need only the expanse of quiet, leisure, stillness, and each other to bring their wisdom to life. Put another way: It helps to remember that trying to keep up with what is new is not necessarily what’s most likely to make you happy, healthy, or successful.
Sensitivity to other people’s expectations can spin you in circles. Being overly influenced by other people’s expectations can make us vulnerable to being reactive instead of deliberate; and those of us who are sensitive to other people’s expectations need to figure out how to manage that. When I was growing up, for example, my father on more than one occasion became furious at me for reading a book rather than volunteering to help around the house. While he clearly did not remember what it was like to be a kid or enjoy himself, his reaction had an impact on me. And to this day, I need to remind myself to be conscious of my motivations before I act so I do not unconsciously relinquish the reins of my life to the helter-skelter whims of others.
Focusing on what makes you feel like you is the best guide there is. Like most writers, I have spent a lot of time living a dual existence: “professional” by day, and “writer” by any early or late hour I have to myself. I am fortunate that I am adept at my professional work, I enjoy it, and I find it meaningful. But when I think it is me, instead of what I do, I tend to lose my focus—and, often, lots of things start to go wrong. But when I am know that I am a writer first—because that is where I feel most fully me—I make smarter decisions, my energy flows more smoothly, and things tend to go better in my working life, my writing life, and my personal life. I can look at the information that comes my way and not feel overly reactive and spun about by distractions because I am acting from what I can only describe as the core of my being.

In short, it comes down to those familiar words: Know yourself—and then trust yourself. It is as simple and remarkable as that.

Filed under: Befriending & Resilience Tagged: Alzheimer's, Brain Pickings, focus, forgetfulness, information overload, Krista Tippet, Maria Popova, memory, Writing

The Upside of Information Overload

AlmaArte Photography

Information overload can spin you in circles. Or you can use it to hone in on what really matters. 

Perfectly healthy young people have been taking themselves to doctors, worried that their forgetfulness is a sign of Alzheimer’s, according to a report last month about doctors in Australia who are studying the phenomenon. But for most of us, growing forgetfulness is little more than a natural reaction to information overload.

Our brains are simply not wired to process the vast amount of information and choices we are exposed to these days—and the impossible effort to do so can lead to indecisiveness, bad decisions and stress, according to Lucy Jo Palladino, Ph.D., a psychologist and author of Find Your Focus Zone.

Information overload can also tempt us to tune out or simply slide across the surface of life—like a water strider on a pond, robbed of the pleasure of a place to land. So what genuinely helps people navigate this Information Age (which, perhaps not coincidentally, has also been called the Age of Anxiety?)

There are lots of suggestions out there in publications such as, Fast Company , Forbes and Aeon. Many discuss the dangers of email and multitasking and the value of daydreaming, taking breaks, going for walks, writing things down, and doing the most important things first. Daniel Goleman also recently wrote about the topic in Focus: The Hidden Driver of Excellence, in which he explores the benefits of mindfulness meditation, focused preparation and recovery, positive emotions and connections, and mental “prosthetics.”

As someone who has an insatiable desire to know and do everything, I’ve also come to find three insights particularly helpful. Rather than concrete actions, they serve more as mindsets or perspectives to take on all that is available to us now—and stay centered on what truly matters to us as individuals.

What’s new is not (necessarily) important. In a recent interview on Krista Tippett’s podcast, On Being, Maria Popova, the creator of Brain Pickings, observed that the way information comes to us today via the Internet constantly reinforces the idea that what is new is what is important and valuable. But this, of course, is not true. Much of what is delivered up as new is neither important nor valuable. To the contrary, it can be a great distraction from what is meaningful—which is often old, timeless, contained in books, in music, in art, and in the hearts and souls of human beings who need only the expanse of quiet, leisure, stillness, and each other to bring their wisdom to life. Put another way: It helps to remember that trying to keep up with what is new is not necessarily what’s most likely to make you happy, healthy, or successful.
Sensitivity to other people’s expectations can spin you in circles. Being overly influenced by other people’s expectations can make us vulnerable to being reactive instead of deliberate; and those of us who are sensitive to other people’s expectations need to figure out how to manage that. When I was growing up, for example, my father on more than one occasion became furious at me for reading a book rather than volunteering to help around the house. While he clearly did not remember what it was like to be a kid or enjoy himself, his reaction had an impact on me. And to this day, I need to remind myself to be conscious of my motivations before I act so I do not unconsciously relinquish the reins of my life to the helter-skelter whims of others.
Focusing on what makes you feel like you is the best guide there is. Like most writers, I have spent a lot of time living a dual existence: “professional” by day, and “writer” by any early or late hour I have to myself. I am fortunate that I am adept at my professional work, I enjoy it, and I find it meaningful. But when I think it is me, instead of what I do, I tend to lose my focus—and, often, lots of things start to go wrong. But when I am know that I am a writer first—because that is where I feel most fully me—I make smarter decisions, my energy flows more smoothly, and things tend to go better in my working life, my writing life, and my personal life. I can look at the information that comes my way and not feel overly reactive and spun about by distractions because I am acting from what I can only describe as the core of my being.

In short, it comes down to those familiar words: Know yourself—and then trust yourself. It is as simple and remarkable as that.

Filed under: Happiness, Love & other emotions, Resilience/Well being Tagged: Alzheimer's, Brain Pickings, focus, forgetfulness, information overload, Krista Tippet, Maria Popova, memory, writing

3 Ways to Maintain Focus

AlmaArte Photography

Perfectly healthy young people have been taking themselves to doctors, worried that their forgetfulness is a sign of Alzheimer’s, according to a report last month about doctors in Australia who are studying the phenomenon. But for most of us, growing forgetfulness is little more than a natural reaction to information overload.

Our brains are simply not wired to process the vast amount of information and choices we are exposed to these days—and the impossible effort to do so can lead to indecisiveness, bad decisions and stress, according to Lucy Jo Palladino, Ph.D., a psychologist and author of Find Your Focus Zone.

Information overload can also tempt us to tune out or simply slide across the surface of life—like a water strider on a pond, robbed of the pleasure of a place to land. So what genuinely helps people navigate this Information Age (which, perhaps not coincidentally, has also been called the Age of Anxiety?)

There are lots of suggestions out there in publications such as, Fast Company , Forbes and Aeon. Many discuss the dangers of email and multitasking and the value of daydreaming, taking breaks, going for walks, writing things down, and doing the most important things first. Daniel Goleman also recently wrote about the topic in Focus: The Hidden Driver of Excellence, in which he explores the benefits of mindfulness meditation, focused preparation and recovery, positive emotions and connections, and mental “prosthetics.”

As someone who has an insatiable desire to know and do everything, I’ve also come to find three insights particularly helpful. Rather than concrete actions, they serve more as mindsets or perspectives to take on all that is available to us now—and stay centered on what truly matters to us as individuals.

What’s new is not (necessarily) important. In a recent interview on Krista Tippett’s podcast, On Being, Maria Popova, the creator of Brain Pickings, observed that the way information comes to us today via the Internet constantly reinforces the idea that what is new is what is important and valuable. But this, of course, is not true. Much of what is delivered up as new is neither important nor valuable. To the contrary, it can be a great distraction from what is meaningful—which is often old, timeless, contained in books, in music, in art, and in the hearts and souls of human beings who need only the expanse of quiet, leisure, stillness, and each other to bring their wisdom to life. Put another way: It helps to remember that trying to keep up with what is new is not necessarily what’s most likely to make you happy, healthy, or successful.
Sensitivity to other people’s expectations can spin you in circles. Being overly influenced by other people’s expectations can make us vulnerable to being reactive instead of deliberate; and those of us who are sensitive to other people’s expectations need to figure out how to manage that. When I was growing up, for example, my father on more than one occasion became furious at me for reading a book rather than volunteering to help around the house. While he clearly did not remember what it was like to be a kid or enjoy himself, his reaction had an impact on me. And to this day, I need to remind myself to be conscious of my motivations before I act so I do not unconsciously relinquish the reins of my life to the helter-skelter whims of others.
Focusing on what makes you feel like you is the best guide there is. Like most writers, I have spent a lot of time living a dual existence: “professional” by day, and “writer” by any early or late hour I have to myself. I am fortunate that I am adept at my professional work, I enjoy it, and I find it meaningful. But when I think it is me, instead of what I do, I tend to lose my focus—and, often, lots of things start to go wrong. But when I am know that I am a writer first—because that is where I feel most fully me—I make smarter decisions, my energy flows more smoothly, and things tend to go better in my working life, my writing life, and my personal life. I can look at the information that comes my way and not feel overly reactive and spun about by distractions because I am acting from what I can only describe as the core of my being.

In short, it comes down to those familiar words: Know yourself—and then trust yourself. It is as simple and remarkable as that.

Filed under: Happiness, Well being, Writing/Creativity Tagged: Alzheimer's, Brain Pickings, focus, forgetfulness, information overload, Krista Tippet, Maria Popova, memory, writing

Three Uncommon Ways to Maintain Your Real Focus

AlmaArte Photography

Perfectly healthy young people have been taking themselves to doctors, worried that their forgetfulness is a sign of Alzheimer’s, according to a report last month about doctors in Australia who are studying the phenomenon. But for most of us, growing forgetfulness is little more than a natural reaction to information overload.

Our brains are simply not wired to process the vast amount of information and choices we are exposed to these days—and the impossible effort to do so can lead to indecisiveness, bad decisions and stress, according to Lucy Jo Palladino, Ph.D., a psychologist and author of Find Your Focus Zone.

Information overload can also tempt us to tune out or simply slide across the surface of life—like a water strider on a pond, robbed of the pleasure of a place to land. So what genuinely helps people navigate this Information Age (which, perhaps not coincidentally, has also been called the Age of Anxiety?)

There are lots of suggestions out there in publications such as, Fast Company , Forbes and Aeon. Many discuss the dangers of email and multitasking and the value of daydreaming, taking breaks, going for walks, writing things down, and doing the most important things first. Daniel Goleman also recently wrote about the topic in Focus: The Hidden Driver of Excellence, in which he explores the benefits of mindfulness meditation, focused preparation and recovery, positive emotions and connections, and mental “prosthetics.”

As someone who has an insatiable desire to know and do everything, I’ve also come to find three insights particularly helpful. Rather than concrete actions, they serve more as mindsets or perspectives to take on all that is available to us now—and stay centered on what truly matters to us as individuals.

What’s new is not (necessarily) important. In a recent interview on Krista Tippett’s podcast, On Being, Maria Popova, the creator of Brain Pickings, observed that the way information comes to us today via the Internet constantly reinforces the idea that what is new is what is important and valuable. But this, of course, is not true. Much of what is delivered up as new is neither important nor valuable. To the contrary, it can be a great distraction from what is meaningful—which is often old, timeless, contained in books, in music, in art, and in the hearts and souls of human beings who need only the expanse of quiet, leisure, stillness, and each other to bring their wisdom to life. Put another way: It helps to remember that trying to keep up with what is new is not necessarily what’s most likely to make you happy, healthy, or successful.
Sensitivity to other people’s expectations can spin you in circles. Being overly influenced by other people’s expectations can make us vulnerable to being reactive instead of deliberate; and those of us who are sensitive to other people’s expectations need to figure out how to manage that. When I was growing up, for example, my father on more than one occasion became furious at me for reading a book rather than volunteering to help around the house. While he clearly did not remember what it was like to be a kid or enjoy himself, his reaction had an impact on me. And to this day, I need to remind myself to be conscious of my motivations before I act so I do not unconsciously relinquish the reins of my life to the helter-skelter whims of others.
Focusing on what makes you feel like you is the best guide there is. Like most writers, I have spent a lot of time living a dual existence: “professional” by day, and “writer” by any early or late hour I have to myself. I am fortunate that I am adept at my professional work, I enjoy it, and I find it meaningful. But when I think it is me, instead of what I do, I tend to lose my focus—and, often, lots of things start to go wrong. But when I am know that I am a writer first—because that is where I feel most fully me—I make smarter decisions, my energy flows more smoothly, and things tend to go better in my working life, my writing life, and my personal life. I can look at the information that comes my way and not feel overly reactive and spun about by distractions because I am acting from what I can only describe as the core of my being.

In short, it comes down to those familiar words: Know yourself—and then trust yourself. It is as simple and remarkable as that.

Filed under: Happiness, Well being, Writing/Creativity Tagged: Alzheimer's, Brain Pickings, focus, forgetfulness, information overload, Krista Tippet, Maria Popova, memory, writing

Giving Private Words Public Voice

Breaking out of what Doris Lessing famously called “The Prisons We Choose to Live Within”

 

My mother kept meticulous files full of articles and brochures about the places she wanted to travel to, although there was no indication she would ever get to any of them.

As a teenager, I looked on my mother’s files with disdain and, later, with pity. How sad, I thought, to just move papers about and never really do the things you want to do. How tragic, to lock up a life in a box.

I now see I too have much of my life in a box. I had—and still have—file cabinets and straw baskets and big black binders and cardboard boxes and computer files and even their backups. These files are filled with my writing.

Writing about falling in love and having my heart broken; getting married and heading to divorce; becoming a mother and holding my children in my arms for the first time and, later, worrying about the complex and unstable world they will inherit; caring for my beloved mother when dementia struck, witnessing the awful progression, being with her when she took her last breath, not knowing how to go on, and finding a way to go on; about my struggles with confidence and other secrets and lies; my spiritual questing, my deep love of life, my fear of dying before I wholly and fully live; about friendship and the beauty of yellow tulips in a vase; about the miracle of having just the right people appear in my life at just the right time, and longing to feel free.

The walls we construct (what Doris Lessing called The Prisons We Choose to Live Inside) may crumble of their own accord but usually, I think, something else happens. We stay stuck. A little light shines in. Or, one day, we find the courage to scale the walls, peek over and take the plunge.

That is what I think we secretly most want to do. And it is what I am doing now—since I began a project several months ago to review all my unpublished writing, identify what may be worth sharing, turn them into publication-ready pieces, and send them out.

This work stops my heart and fills it at the same time. I mean to say it terrifies me. But feeling this terror is better than feeling the deadening of my spirit that comes from keeping it all locked up. Because this, in the end, is what I have to give:

Words about life, my life, and the common threads that unite all our lives—the experience of longings and disappointments, successes and failures, love and loss. And in an age when it seems as if we are all expected to sell our work and ourselves, with a bright shiny ribbon on it and a promise of here is how you too can find success, happiness, and love—it takes a bit of courage, I think, to offer one’s bare truth.

But then again, it is the simple truths—offered by writers, often in books of limited commercial appeal but timeless value—that have meant the most to me. It is what we writers do: conjure the words that help people understand, maybe just a little more, our shared and uncontainable experience of life. But it only works when the words expressed in private are let out into the world and given a life of their own.

(This post originally appeared as a guest blog on JaneFriedman.com)

Filed under: Writing/Creativity Tagged: creativity, publishing, Writing/Creativity

Unpublished Writing in Boxes

(This post originally appeared as a guest blog on JaneFriedman.com)

My mother kept meticulous files full of articles and brochures about the places she wanted to travel to, although there was no indication she would ever get to any of them. My father was deeply uncomfortable leaving home and wanted to venture no further than the garden out back or the workbench in the garage, and she lacked the daring to strike out on her own. As a teenager, I looked on my mother’s files with disdain and, later, with pity. How sad, I thought, to just move papers about and never really do the things you want to do. How tragic, to lock up a life in a box.

Many years later, I came to see that I too had much of my life in a box. I had—and still have—file cabinets and straw baskets and big black binders and cardboard boxes and computer files and even their backups. These files are filled with my writing. Writing about falling in love and having my heart broken; about adventures in sex and sexuality; about getting married and heading to divorce; about becoming a mother and holding my children in my arms for the first time and, later, worrying about the complex and unstable world they will inherit; about caring for my beloved mother when dementia struck, witnessing the awful progression, being with her when she took her last breath, not knowing how to go on, and finding a way to go on; about my struggles with confidence and other secrets and lies; about my spiritual questing, my deep love of life, and my fear of dying before I wholly and fully live; about friendship and the beauty of yellow tulips in a vase; about the miracle of having just the right people appear in my life at just the right time, and longing, longing, longing—to break free.

The walls we construct (what Doris Lessing called The Prisons We Choose to Live Inside) may crumble of their own accord but usually, I think, something else happens. We stay stuck. A little light shines in. Or, one day, we find the courage to scale the walls, peek over and take the plunge. That is what I think we secretly most want to do. And it is what I am doing now—since I began a project several months ago to review all my unpublished writing, identify what may be worth sharing, turn them into publication-ready pieces, and send them out.

This work stops my heart and fills it at the same time. I mean to say it terrifies me. But feeling this terror is better than feeling the deadening of my spirit that comes from keeping it all locked up. Because this, in the end, is what I have to give: Words about life, my life, and the common threads that unite all our lives—the experience of longings and disappointments, successes and failures, love and loss. And in an age when it seems as if we are all expected to sell our work and ourselves, with a bright shiny ribbon on it and a promise of here is how you too can find success, happiness, and love—it takes a bit of courage, I think, to offer one’s bare truth. But then again, it is the simple truths—offered by writers, often in books of limited commercial appeal but timeless value—that have meant the most to me. It is what we writers do: conjure the words that help people understand, maybe just a little more, our shared and uncontainable experience of life. But it only works when the words expressed in private are let out into the world and given a life of their own.

(This post originally appeared as a guest blog on JaneFriedman.com)

Filed under: Writing/Creativity Tagged: creativity, publishing, Writing/Creativity

When You Have Lots of Unpublished Writing in Boxes

My mother kept meticulous files full of articles and brochures about the places she wanted to travel to, although there was no indication she would ever get to any of them. My father was deeply uncomfortable leaving home and wanted to venture no further than the garden out back or the workbench in the garage, and she lacked the daring to strike out on her own. As a teenager, I looked on my mother’s files with disdain and, later, with pity. How sad, I thought, to just move papers about and never really do the things you want to do. How tragic, to lock up a life in a box.

Many years later, I came to see that I too had much of my life in a box. I had—and still have—file cabinets and straw baskets and big black binders and cardboard boxes and computer files and even their backups. These files are filled with my writing. Writing about falling in love and having my heart broken; about adventures in sex and sexuality; about getting married and heading to divorce; about becoming a mother and holding my children in my arms for the first time and, later, worrying about the complex and unstable world they will inherit; about caring for my beloved mother when dementia struck, witnessing the awful progression, being with her when she took her last breath, not knowing how to go on, and finding a way to go on; about my struggles with confidence and other secrets and lies; about my spiritual questing, my deep love of life, and my fear of dying before I wholly and fully live; about friendship and the beauty of yellow tulips in a vase; about the miracle of having just the right people appear in my life at just the right time, and longing, longing, longing—to break free.

The walls we construct (what Doris Lessing called The Prisons We Choose to Live Inside) may crumble of their own accord but usually, I think, something else happens. We stay stuck. A little light shines in. Or, one day, we find the courage to scale the walls, peek over and take the plunge. That is what I think we secretly most want to do. And it is what I am doing now—since I began a project several months ago to review all my unpublished writing, identify what may be worth sharing, turn them into publication-ready pieces, and send them out.

This work stops my heart and fills it at the same time. I mean to say it terrifies me. But feeling this terror is better than feeling the deadening of my spirit that comes from keeping it all locked up. Because this, in the end, is what I have to give: Words about life, my life, and the common threads that unite all our lives—the experience of longings and disappointments, successes and failures, love and loss. And in an age when it seems as if we are all expected to sell our work and ourselves, with a bright shiny ribbon on it and a promise of here is how you too can find success, happiness, and love—it takes a bit of courage, I think, to offer one’s bare truth. But then again, it is the simple truths—offered by writers, often in books of limited commercial appeal but timeless value—that have meant the most to me. It is what we writers do: conjure the words that help people understand, maybe just a little more, our shared and uncontainable experience of life. But it only works when the words expressed in private are let out into the world and given a life of their own.

(This post originally appeared as a guest blog on JaneFriedman.com)

Filed under: Creativity, Publishing, Writing Tagged: creativity, publishing, Writing

Overcoming Fear of Climate Change

The science writer Margaret Wertheim said in an interview last week: “We will not solve global warming and ocean acidification if we just freak ourselves out and end up huddling in corners in fear. We must find ways to collectively act, and constructively and positively act.”

These are wise words that remind me of something I have been thinking about for a long time: that one of the most important things those who are concerned about climate change can do is focus less on trying to persuade others of the threat and seriousness, or even the reality, of climate change–and much more on the things that make us feel empowered to do something about it.

For Wertheim, this is about engaging others in coral reef art projects. For the poet Mary Oliver, it is about writing about the beauty and wonder of life–reminding many of us why we not only need but love nature.

For others perhaps, it is about finding the one small thing we can do and doing it. Not berating ourselves for imagining it is not enough–but knowing that, if it is what we can do, then it is enough. (The likely alternative, after all, is to do nothing at all.)

When I first began to be concerned about climate change–primarily because I was worried about what it would mean for my children’s lives–I read all the lectures of the Nobel Peace Prize winners. Surely, I thought, there must be lessons to be found in the words of those who have triumphed in the face of other challenges. (This is, of course, true and continues to be a work in-progress.)

Recently, I reread the words spoken after the first Peace Prize was awarded to the International Committee on the Red Cross for its work spanning the years of World War II, 1939-1945. And this section, in particular, seemed relevant:

“The International Committee wishes to state publicly that the results it achieved measured up to all its hopes; but it also realizes that what has been given it do was, in the final analysis, of little significance when compared to the sum total of suffering it encountered in the course of its work. It strove to alleviate what misery it could; it tried to raise its flag above the ruins of the world to show that human hope should never falter.”

The point is that even in having achieved work worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize, there was more that the International Committee on the Red Cross (at least, theoretically) could have done. But being unable to do everything never reduces the meaning of doing something.

There is also this we know about human beings: We are greatly influenced by what others do. So you never know how what you do today, however small it may be, might influence someone else.

For me, this has been one of the most important lessons learned along the path of overcoming fear of climate change.

How about you?

The Margaret Wertheim interview, The Grandeur and Limits of Science, appeared on Krista Tippet’s show, On Being. Listen here. Tippet also recently interviewed Mary Oliver; you can listen to that one here. 

Filed under: Children & Parenting, Climate change, Creativity, Overcoming fear, Writing Tagged: climate change, International Committee on the Red Cross, Krista Tippet, Margaret Wertheim, Mary Oliver, Nobel Peace Prize, science communications