manifesto
I love the life I've chosen. I'm proud of it, if I may be allowed to be proud of it for a moment. I'm happy with the ways I've learned to love people and take care of them. I'm aware often of my heart getting bigger and of feeling more capable of care and love.
I feel awed by the luck I've had--all the lucky breaks, from my MFA (acceptance, classmates, advisers), to my book, to getting the job in France, to coming to England. And the luck that preceded that--the luck of having a family who love one another; of growing up in a church that puts love first, as well; of being surrounded by books and music and art and possibility. I know not everyone has this (or wants it, maybe. I can't presume to know what anyone else might want).
I'm thankful for my parents, who showed me from when I was tiny that making things myself was freeing and joy-giving. I'm convinced my imagination and creativity are my best assets--for myself, as I can keep myself entertained and interested in almost anything, and for the people around me, too.
Of everything, what I'd like to do with my life is make the kind of luck I've had available to the people I come in contact with. I'm trying to be more and more open. Where openness stands for love, I suppose. More loving. Luck and love (again); for me, they're bound up together.
It's not Pollyanna. I know bad stuff happens. I think I've gone through some of that (although when I think comparatively, I still find the word 'lucky' fits). I know there's hard stuff still to come, too--that's the way life is. It's that I'd rather, as much as I can, take the hard times and make them useful for this loving. I'm aiming away from bitterness.
Sometimes I feel like I only write a few things, over and over: 'yes,' 'lucky,' 'love.' Well, I suppose those are good things to repeat, if repetition's bound to happen anyhow. I hope you don't mind reading them.
I feel awed by the luck I've had--all the lucky breaks, from my MFA (acceptance, classmates, advisers), to my book, to getting the job in France, to coming to England. And the luck that preceded that--the luck of having a family who love one another; of growing up in a church that puts love first, as well; of being surrounded by books and music and art and possibility. I know not everyone has this (or wants it, maybe. I can't presume to know what anyone else might want).
I'm thankful for my parents, who showed me from when I was tiny that making things myself was freeing and joy-giving. I'm convinced my imagination and creativity are my best assets--for myself, as I can keep myself entertained and interested in almost anything, and for the people around me, too.
Of everything, what I'd like to do with my life is make the kind of luck I've had available to the people I come in contact with. I'm trying to be more and more open. Where openness stands for love, I suppose. More loving. Luck and love (again); for me, they're bound up together.
It's not Pollyanna. I know bad stuff happens. I think I've gone through some of that (although when I think comparatively, I still find the word 'lucky' fits). I know there's hard stuff still to come, too--that's the way life is. It's that I'd rather, as much as I can, take the hard times and make them useful for this loving. I'm aiming away from bitterness.
Sometimes I feel like I only write a few things, over and over: 'yes,' 'lucky,' 'love.' Well, I suppose those are good things to repeat, if repetition's bound to happen anyhow. I hope you don't mind reading them.
posted by Eireann at
6:42 PM
9 Comments:
What I love so much about this blog is that it always reminds me how beautiful life can be. And I say that not because of where you have traveled, though those places are lovely, but how you frame the experiences.
I often think of how special a place you make Minneapolis feel through pictures and words, and how different my perceptions of it are having also grown up there.
I am happy to read those three words, "yes", "lucky" and "love" over and over again. I feel very lucky to have found this blog, and am grateful to get to share in the magical perspective it gives.
beautiful friend.
there can never be enough luck or love. and it's a real blessing to know when you have both
you're such an inspiration eireann. thank you! xox
don't mind reading them at all. keep writing them!
it's good to be reminded of how good and deep and rich life can be, even despite bad circumstances - and I think it's good to celebrate and remember the things in your life that bring you joy.
There's something about the way in which you process the world that fills me up, reminds me to not be as frantic as I tend to be. Live life of quiet contemplation, live life fully and with happiness. It's good to read these things and to believe them, to trust it all.
i mean this in the most complementary way possible--no malice, sarcasm, or spite--im constantly bewildered at how you maintain the outlook that you do.
-bird
when I stop to think about it, I'm sometimes bewildered, too. But I think it's that I figure I always have a choice: I can react to things with bitterness and negativity, or I can choose to respond with love and openness and generosity. I would never say I do this perfectly; I certainly have my periods of meanness and closedness and sometimes I just think, well, this sucks and I can't change it. But even then I've found that IF I can convince myself to open up, things go better for me. So it's self-serving, as much as anything, I suppose.
Also I really do find the world marvelous and wonderful. And the people in it, too. And when I'm feeling awful it's the world and the people who pull me out of that--which is often, in my case, a kind of self-centered, self-pitying thing--and remind me to LOOK at what's around me. And when I do that I see how good it is and it makes me want to do better.
Beautiful words.
(thank you all for such kind words...I was really hesitant to post this because it feels a little preachy and self-absorbed. I'm glad you can get something good out of it.)
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