#SOL17: Live in the Layers

Mono Print Painting (M. A. Reilly, March 2017)

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray. 

Stanley Kunitz, The Layers

I. 

What's sacred?  What definitions of self are unwavering? In Stanley Kunitz's poem, the speaker learns, “Live in the layers,/not on the litter.” I have pondered those two lines for a long time, intrigued by their brevity and bigness. There's considerable wisdom in that bit of advice. 

Across the decades, identity layers have been formed and reformed by the attention paid and missed, by pressures and weights, as well as through the many understandings composed while living. Reflection matters. How easy it has been at times to be overly attentive to what rests at the surface, what Kunitz would call the litter.  In the last year, I have learned--out of necessity-- to tune my ears to silence and name those deep strengths and earth-bound truths I call my own.

II.

At the center of my identity is the bone-deep belief that I am highly competent--a problem framer. I remember being so surprised after Rob's death when I had trouble doing ordinary acts, like booking a flight. I sat for hours, unmoving, until I realized that I just had to get on with it. And I did.  

I also am empathic. When I was writing my dissertation, Mikhail Bakhtin's notion of "I for Myself, Myself for Other" was central to the learning theory I would later compose. The self, as Bakhtin said, is always in dialogue with other.  Identity is dialogic--I exist in relationship to others. Even memories that we often think of as private are socially composed. What Bakhtin's writing helped me to learn is that empathy happens in the return to self.

As a child, I came to understand that I was a problem framer and empathic.  Later, I refined these understandings through my roles as wife, mother, sister, friend, teacher, artist, business owner, and now widow. 

III.

Some years ago I wrote a poem that looked at these beginnings based on  George Ella Lyon's poem, "Where I'm From." I wrote it during an exercise in a class.  (I suspect you may have your own version too.) The poem means more now then when I wrote it.  Then I did not have need of the deep, abiding trust in self that this last year has required. These losses, multiple and shattering, have been costly, even though I realize that I am the better for it. 

Like the speaker in Kunitz's poem, as I age, I too have struggled not to stray. 

IV.

Where I'm from (Based on George Ella Lyons' poem) 


Self portrait, March 2017

I am from blocks
of ivory soap
of ice wedged between milk bottles
in the summer,
from the white, gabled home
with dark green shutters,
so solid against sudden storms.
I am from the gnarled Cherry tree,
its pale pink blossoms
translucent
against the wet, black bark.

I’m from tinseled trees and stacks of books
from Catherine Mary and Robert Emmett.
I’m from daily piano scales and two-part Inventions.
From Pop who played ragtime, all the time.
I’m from “batter up,”
and “I was just passin’ the time of day.”
From Marches on Washington
to “say five Hail Marys,”
knowing too well the slim comfort of the confessional--
so dark and thick with secrets.

I’m from Stamullen,
tucked tight alongside the Irish Sea.
From late afternoon tea with those
who came back from the war
and those who could not give up the ghosts.
I am from all of this
from the limbs that formed
those long afternoons
strong in ways I’ve learned to test.

Something True: Advice #1

Happiness is the Longing for Repetition (M.A. Reilly, 2009)

1. Leave Enough Big Holes

Think about the predictability of lives that shoot like arrows, unfolding linearly, neatly. I think of Milan Kundera who at the end of The Unbearable Lightness of Being comments:

"And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition." 

I like narratives you can drive through; ones with the potential to circle back in unexpected and difficult to chart ways.  Perhaps like me, you too appreciate lives that are composed largely with holes so big that the urge to wander is most often present, flirting with the want to get on.

It's that tension between uncertainty and certain destination that most opens me (and perhaps you?) to possibility.

On Teaching Writing, Not!

A People Do Not Forget their Geniuses (Reilly, 2009)

Last weekend Maureen Devlin (@lookforsun) asked me if I had written or would write a post about teaching writing. I found one post, actually taken from part of a chapter from a book I wrote. But other than that, I have been pretty quiet about teaching writing and I think there are some reasons for that silence.

I'm not sure teaching teachers about writing is helpful to them or their students, especially if the instruction is in place of teachers actually learning to teach writing by being authors and studying their own processes.  I almost want to suggest that on the many books and posts about teaching writing that there needs to be a sign that reads: Don't try this without actually having written and thought a bit about how you write!

Wild Nights! Wild Nights! (Reilly, 2009)

Now to be clear, the challenge isn't that there are lots of text about teaching writing, some that have informed my own work.  The issue, rather, is that such information will not and cannot take the place of being a writer.  Being a writer allows me to understand what actually happens while writing, thinking about writing, avoiding writing, etc.  From within the context of doing and thinking, texts about writing may be helpful.  I am wondering though how many teachers think they can read about teaching writing and then apply those lessons to their classrooms, in lieu of actually being a writer.  I want to say here, that such practices may well  result in lessons that lack accuracy, depth, and appropriate or meaningful response.  The reasons for this are three-fold:

1. Without actually writing it is impossible to understand that what you recommend or insist learners do which may appear logical , may in fact be problematic or simply, wrong. You may be telling students to do things that will limit their expression, cause them to doubt their capacity to write, confuse them, or cause them to dislike writing.
2. Not everyone who authors books about teaching writing, actually has experience teaching. Whereas the recommendations made may make sense to the author and perhaps other adults, some of the practices may not translate well or be appropriate for children. 
3. Not all recommended practices work well with youngsters depending on their age, their histories, their idiosyncratic practices as writers.

Some writing advice/directions or writing instruction I have heard told to students that would not help me as a writer, well at least not always:

A Pocket Full of Stones (Reilly, 2009)

1. You must begin your composition with a topic sentence. Underline it.
2. Never use first person in your essay.
3. You must keep a writer's notebook. I will show you the format you will use.
4. Each paragraph must have a topic sentence, supporting details, and clincher sentence. The paragraphs must contain between 5 and 8 sentences and you must include at least five paragraphs.
5. Correcting verb tense on a first draft. (I am almost always shifting tense as I am unsure of where I am situating the text).
6. Make an outline of your story before you begin writing.
7. Once you decide your topic, you must stick to it throughout the writing. It cannot be changed.
8. Begin your writing by making a web of ideas.
9. Shh. You're writing, not talking.
10. Add adjectives to spruce up your work.
11. Put away those books, you're writing.
12. You must write the first draft and then can use the computer for the final copy.
13. Finish every piece.
14. You have five days to write....
15. Show, don't tell.
16. Only write with complete sentences.
17. You  must write in x number of different genres each year.
18. This is a non-fiction piece. There should be no fiction in it.
19. You must prewrite and it should be attached to your final draft.
20. Invert the question into a statement and use that as your opening. 
21. Make a list of topics you want to write about this year and put them in the front of your notebook.
22. You must write everyday for at least 15 minutes.
23. Draw a picture before you write.
24. Use metaphors in your writing.
25. Never mimic other people's writing. This is stealing.
26. Do not use "you" anywhere in your work.
27. Talk about what you want to write with your neighbor before you write.
28. Don't edit until the end.
29. You will lose 10 points for each day your writing is late.
30. I can't give you a topic. You must find one for yourself.
31. Don't use slang.
32. Write only in Standard English.

So what teaching writing advice I would offer?

• Write.
• See what you learn about writing from your own writing, writing habits, and dispositions across time.
• Join or don't join a writing group. Truly this is a personal decision.
• Read often.
• Forget my advice and invent it for yourself.

Nausicaa (Reilly, 2009)

On a lighter note, here's some feedback for James Joyce upon submission of Ulysses to his creative writing workshop.