A Writing Journey

I had resigned myself to not writing this week. 

I ran through a list of reasons why I would let myself off the hook. I was tired. It has been a really long week. Every idea for a slice just didn’t feel right. I started writing a slice in my head and then the story just fizzled out. Yes, my resignation was real.

But, if I am being entirely honest, I just didn’t feel any joy in writing. I have had a whole seven days since last Tuesday.  During each of those days, I felt a little bit like I was the sacrificial lamb in a proverbial dunk tank and every time I tried to get back on the seat, a ball hit the trigger –”bull’s eye!” —  and I was back in the water. But it wasn’t water I was sinking into —  it was a pool of news — news from traditional media, online posts, youtube videos, conversations in the hallway at school, texts from friends — it was a constant flow of the opposite of joy — I felt like I was drowning in the misery of tragic world events. 

But something happened tonight. I thought back through the past seven days and realized one conversation may have given me permission to find joy in the misery.

I was really lucky last Wednesday night to be in conversation over Zoom with educators and Iran-American author Firoozeh Dumas about her book Funny in Farsi (https://firoozehdumas.com/). Her book uses humour to talk about life growing up Iranian in the United States. I signed up for the discussion thinking that I may glean a new perspective on the war from someone who had a vested interest in the region. 

What I didn’t realize is that Firoozeh would provide me with a much more valuable take on the war — a reason to hope that we are not helpless in the face of conflicts that seem out of our control. 

“They cannot steal our joy!” she told us.

I was surprised at this simple act of resistance. I didn’t fully appreciate it last week. But, subtly, I think Firoozeh’s intention negotiated its way into my week. Every day, I would notice something that reminded me of her words — “they cannot steal your joy!”

Here are some photographs to explain what I mean:

A sunset from my balcony — a beacon that each day ends with the promise that the sun will rise again tomorrow.

A subway poem reminding me that something is “blooming” inside of me after a very long winter and in the midst of tragedy in far-away places.

These crocuses greeted me after a morning rain, revealing that nature is renewing itself and beauty is sprouting all around us.

This instagram post appeared just yesterday — another reminder that I am like those crocuses — I too will bloom in my own time.

And this Facebook post showed up today. I think this is when Firoozeh’s message returned to me (it took a while, but the signs were everywhere!) — if you feel joy, don’t hesitate. Thank you, once again, Mary Oliver, for having just the right words for the moment.

And so, after resigning myself not to write, I realized I had to write tonight (and post in just the nick of time)! As an act of resistance. To fight the misery that we are witnessing in the world. To feel the joy — once again, and not feel guilty. As Mary Oliver says: “Joy is not made to be a crumb.” So, let’s eat the whole cake. Can I let the joy in? One moment at a time.