Creativity

December 23, 2013

I’d Like to Thank the Academy

My favorite part of the Academy Awards is the thank you speeches.* I love watching someone take the stage amid cheers, take a deep breath and say a big grateful wow to all the work, support, energy and heart that led to that moment.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be on an awards show, but I think now, more than ever, I need to pause and give a big grateful wow.

Our world seems to be rocking and rolling and groaning. Fear spreads like wildfire across the surface of our globe and narrow bricks wobble beneath our economic towers of Babel. But there are deeper truths and wider foundations.

And the way to find them is through gratitude.

So here’s my acceptance speech, my list of thank yous and a big, grateful wow:

* I am grateful for the perspective of the horizon, that bigger picture that contains the close up details of each day. When the rocking and rolling and groaning of the world around me get loud and crazy, I can raise my eyes to the place where heaven meets earth and remember the long term view: generations in the future who will reap the harvest I help plant today; the mystery of Spirit that transcends and infuses everything; the new sprouts that grow even as the old crumbles.

* Unable to see the path ahead on this journey of life, I am grateful for my growing courage and tr

ust to take that next step. Mary Jo Leddy’s poem sings in my heart:

“We walk on the waters of gratitude

knowing there is nothing there

trusting there will be enough

to go on.” **

* I am grateful for this flesh and blood and bone body that I was given at birth. She carries me through every day. When I slow down to notice, I feel the tingle in my feet when I am grounded, a cloud of confusion when something smells “off” and I need to pay close attention to what is happening around me or a tickle on the top of my head when something feels right on. My wise body has much to tell me every time I stop to listen.

* I am grateful for paradoxes that meet me at every turn, and keep showing up even when I fight them. Paradoxes like living personally and globally at the same time or my conflict about putting my book in an online bookstore while supporting independent bookstores (as I spoke about in this blog).

* I am deeply grateful for every one of you and to others around this globe. We were born to be in community, to work together across our diversity. When each of us contributes, we have everything we need for equity, justice, joy and creativity.

* I am grateful for my partnership with Harvest Time , Be Present, Inc. and Community Wholeness Venture where I have both received and given in one smooth, continuous motion. And for Khara Scott-Bey, illustrator for Big Topics at Midnight and the drawing above. Her creativity invites me to delight and ponder. Working together with partners like these gives me great hope for the world.

So there’s my list. If you’re in the mood to share, I’d love to read yours.

Now is the time to celebrate how far we’ve journeyed, to fan the flames of creativity and joy that fuel our sight and work, to drop to our knees with a big grateful wow, knowing, as Rumi wrote, “There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground.’”

Blessings to each of you as the light of 2013 fades to a close and soon gives way to the dawn of a new year.

*This was a newsletter I wrote last month. As the year nears its end, I find that gratitude fills my heart. I am posting it here for those who missed it in the avalanche of emails that filled our inboxes just after Thanksgiving.

**Leddy, Mary Jo, Radical Gratitude (New York: Orbis Books, 2002) pg 38

November 14, 2013

Listen Up, Honey-Bunchkins

I was stuck. Defeated. Hiding under Mom’s blue afghan.

Luckily I’d “met” a character that could give me just the shove I needed—Hectate, my own combination of the goddess Hecate and my wise inner guide with an attitude the size of Texas. Hectate, never one to mince words, demanded that I get up and do what was mine to do.

She had me put Helen Reddy’s All Time Greatest Hits in the CD player, crank up the volume and sing at the top of my lungs. Hectate wanted to “write” me a letter, so I sat at my computer, fingers poised over my computer keyboard, took a deep breath and waited. My fear and trembling disappeared as Hectate began to “dictate” this:

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Church night in the South

Listen up, Honey-bunchkins,

Your singing sounds great. How polite of you to close the windows first. Still afraid someone will hear you and Helen singing together? Being loud still too wild for you? …

You belted out “I Am Woman” while you danced with the vacuum cleaner as a young woman back in Boise land. Funny how your wildness came out a bit when you cleaned house.

Welcome home to the fullness of your life as a woman. It took you long enough. Fifty-two years old is no spring chicken. The power of the lie is so strong it is hard for women to break through much younger. Especially strong, intelligent women like you.

Like many women of your time, you’ve lived out a strange combination of falling asleep and feeling invincible. You thought you could do it alone, right? At times you almost sank from the weight of your strength. You tried to play by enough of the rules that you could sustain the illusion of your independence from things as messy as sexism and patriarchy. You got a little constipated trying to hold it all in while not noticing. …

$#@* invincibility and strength. They damn near drug you under a few times. …

This society does its little jig, pretending everything is just peachy for everyone. You are living in an insane world. That is not the whole picture, of course. Life’s beautiful, too. But it is the insane part that put you to sleep and is causing such havoc these days. Are you ready to wake up? Are you ready to open your eyes and see things as they really are? …

Time, it is a wasting. Midnight’s near, and it’s hard to see the way. But I need you human women to WAKE UP NOW. You must claim your wisdom and live it in the world. If women continue to remain silent, there is little hope for this little planet. …

You were created with just what you need to thrive, to live fully. You were not created lacking. Quit acting like it. Believe in your greatness, your magnificence and your power. Yes, most of the current world institutions embody a distorted power, dangerous “greatness.” $#@* that shit! You are talking about another kind of power. Don’t be so afraid. Live. NOW. …

If you try to hold back, I’ll drag this out of you. That will really hurt. So get on with it. Generations of women have your back and add their spirits to your breath.

Find that voice of yours, that WOMAN’S voice, and speak it. Living with only part of your wisdom is a luxury the world can no longer afford. None of us. Not men. Not women. Not trees or plants. Not rocks or stars. Not water or flame. Not air or animals or the cosmos. …

Amen, so be it, just do it, have fun along the way and all that. You are never alone. Don’t forget, you have a heavenly posse leading the way.

Blessings, honey-bunchkins, Hectate^*

While I still hide under Mom’s afghan now and then, humming along with Helen now and then helped me to remember Hectate’s straight-to-the-point guidance and put a little kick in my step.

Hectate has made it clear that she wants to share some of her wisdom with a larger audience. She will “take over” Nancy’s facebook author page for her own posts.

*Big Topics at Midnight: A Texas Girl Wakes Up to Race, Class, Gender and Herself (Portland: Rosegate Press, 2012) page 264-266, slightly adapted

Drawing by Khara Scott-Bey, Illustration from Big Topics at Midnight.

October 25, 2013

Little Topics in Wild Times

Life seems wooly and wild these days. Friends in crisis—financial and otherwise. Political polarity. It feels like the earth is shaking under our feet and the waves are crashing at the shores of our lives.

I believe we are in a transition toward a new paradigm that is better than the old, but my question today is how to stand in a time when the old is crumbling but I can’t yet see the future. As summer fades into autumn, I feel drawn to the small details of life.

The bright red leaves on a few trees.

The scurrying squirrels gathering nuts.

My sit-bones as I sit in the chair.

The sounds of birds or scraping as the neighbors clean their grill in preparation for a barbeque dinner.

Noticing these little details of life helps keep me grounded as I learn how to ride the wild shifts and participate in Big Topics Conversations. As we leave the blue moon and August behind, I want to feast on the abundance of delights that are all around me when I stop long enough to notice.

Rummaging through my computer, I came across this short piece (slightly updated) that I wrote for Jen Violi’s September 12, 2012 newsletter. Jen is a writer and book coach extraordinaire.

When I wrote those words I was just beginning my journey walking out into the world with Big Topics at Midnight. Much has happened since then, but the wild and wooly times continue. Before I dive back into preparation for my role at November’s Be Present, Inc.‘s upcoming event “Moving Forward in Action: Collective Leadership and Social Justice,” exploring “The Role of Collective Leadership in Community Organizing and Public Policy”–a rather big topic conversation–I stop to appreciate the flickering of the candle beside my computer and the brilliant orange and yellow leaves outside my window.

Photograph by Brenda Wills.

October 14, 2013

Standing in the Gap … Together

I suppose we could stack one on top of each other, the way one piece of my collage illustrates, as one way to “stand in the gap” together. One house on top of another on top of another. It is an efficient use of ground space, even if climbing from one house to another is a bit daunting with my middle-aged knees.

Not to mention my fear of heights.

There are all sorts of gaps or crevasses that cut through our world. We are divided by the color of our skin, how much money we have in the bank and all sorts of stuff about our gender.

I can’t wiggle my nose and make these gaps go away, so I want to get inside them along with others to do the work of love, compassion, justice, equity, spiritual transformation—those things powerful enough to build something new, together.

However, I don’t usually think of standing in the gap together as a stacking game. If I stand on your shoulders and someone stands on mine, we will fill up the gap vertically, but we’ll also be exhausted in the process.

I often feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders without anyone perched up there. I don’t really want you up there, too.

I know that our world is set up to climb ladders. The ladder to success—until you hit the glass ceiling. Jacob’s ladder on the spiritual journey. We’ve tried to build buildings and corporations higher and higher, and our world groans under the weight.

That is not the world I want to help build. I’d rather move with circles or waves or flow. Something more curving, connecting and inclusive. Feminine.

If not one on top of the other, how shall we then stand?

In a circle? Standing side-by-side with linked arms, supporting each other? Is there a way we can share the burden and the gifts?

Playing with images to explore big topics may seem like child’s play, but don’t be fooled. Imagination holds the power to clarify our thinking and propel us to action.

Anyone want to stand in the gap with me?

Drawing by Khara Scott-Bey. Houses photo from my collage box. I explore more about “standing in the gap” in Big Topics at Midnight.

September 16, 2013

The Eight-eyed Steam Girl is a Woman Now: My life as Myth

I was born an Eight-eyed Steam Girl. The fire of natural gas and oil shot through me from below; ancient waters poured down from above. The mixing was wild and chaotic. Fluid emotions and flaming passion combined to propel me down the tracks, rocking back and forth with my own rhythm. I could see where I was going even though I had no map in hand. A different sort of sight was required for my trip through life. And I had lots of sight—eight eyes. Not just the two typical face eyes but eyes of my heart, hands, feet and one right in the middle of my forehead.

Other folks thought all that sight and steam was too much in one little girl. My “extra” eyeballs were lassoed and tucked out of sight. The “unsightly” steam was controlled by a careful wrapping of my entire body with a beautiful skein of yarn, stopping up all of the “unsightly” eruptions of steam.

Luckily, I was a smart girl. I learned how to navigate with two eyes and my rational, logical mind, all propelled by the limited amount of steam that escaped around my full body wrapping.

Until now.

It’s time for a change. My rhythm has long been strong and powerful, but limping. Not connected to the heart of myself. Trying hard to adapt to the demanding gallop of the culture around me. I wanted to find the real me once again.

I released my eyeballs from their hiding spot and laid the beautiful yarn unwrapped from around my body in a knitting basket. Part of me danced with delight. But my two, overused eyeballs and my brain, so long in charge, screamed and shouted in fear. “Don’t go. You are throwing away the best ways to navigate through life. You’ll never be able to keep everything straight, get anything done, be efficient again.”

Nonsense. But sometimes, too many sometimes, I still believe this fearful voice. Chaos is harder to navigate than tried and true to-do lists. What would happen in my life, I wondered, if too many things fell through the cracks?

For over fifty years I’d kept my inner lid tightly closed so I could adjust to the world. It was time now to quit pretending I was someone else.

In my wrapped up days, I’d over accommodated, tried to be the woman others needed me to be, nice and supportive-like. It was EXHAUSTING. I’d been trying to fuel my life with limited sight and truncated energy.

Now is the time. I was born an Eight-eyed Steam Girl, and now I’m older. Coming home to myself. Learning new songs and dances.

Wild, wise and a little crazy, I’ll find my own way to dance with steam, see every which way and sing with all parts of myself.

In the middle of writing Big Topics at Midnight, I played with telling my life story as a myth. Instantly, I had the image of an Eight-eyed Steam Girl in her Little Red Boat. I told her story from birth until high school. As I struggled to find a way to step into a more intuitive, Spirit-guided way of shepherding my book for this second year, I returned to the myth to see how my story would look right now, as I moved toward my 60^th birthday.

For a more extensive peek into my personal myth, see Big Topics at Midnight, pages 306-308.

August 21, 2013

When Life Throws You a Tornado

I awoke startled from a dream. A house was flying through the air, beginning to come apart amid an iron, ironing board, car, flip-flops and furniture heading in every direction.

What is needed for this time when everything seems to be flying off its hinges or soaring up from tried and true foundations? Lord only knows where it will all land.

The invitation I hear in the middle of this chaos is to let it all go. Don’t look for landing spots. And, hardest of all, don’t be afraid.

I am flying through the air myself. Am I the iron—desperately wanting to remove some wrinkles? Am I driving the car that has left the road behind?

Every time I wake up during a sleepless night, I am off and flying in my thoughts and fears. No landing in sight.

When life throws me a tornado, I need to learn to fly—or swirl or release.

The rest is up in the air.

July 22, 2013

Two Peas in a Pod

People assumed that Big Topics at Midnight would want to have her picture taken beside an exotic umbrella drink with the Hawaiian ocean in the background. That may still happen, but I soon discovered that she was much more interested in being photographed while leaning against trees.

Like Mother, like daughter.

Neither one of us is a tree hugger. We are tree leaners. Energy begins to flow when the back of our hearts connects with these magnificent creations with their roots deep into the ground and branches that reach for the heavens.

She and I have another connection to trees: our profound gratitude for the paper that comes from the gift of a tree’s body. We know that some prefer technology and pontificate on the ecological benefits of reading things on computers and “printing” books on the screen. The two of us don’t argue with the logic, but little compares with the sensuous feel of a book with paper pages—a gift from the heartwood.

Since I often tired of sitting endless hours at a computer screen, editing and playing with her when she was a wee book-in-process, the stages of her gestation were printed on page after page for me to edit. I bet Big Topics at Midnight is grateful that I continued to work on her story so she wasn’t presented to the world in any of the multiple drafts that were left behind…

Leaning is our way of saying Thank You to the trees around us, for their beauty when standing firmly planted in the Earth and their beauty as a piece of paper.

June 29, 2013

Getting Naked: Memoir #1

I’m not fond of taking my clothes off in public. St. Francis did it when he renounced his father’s lifestyle and business and ran off into the wilderness. But I’m no saint.

And yet I felt led to write one of the most revealing of books—a memoir. Not just one memoir, like a normal person should write. But multiple, parallel memoirs: personal, family/ancestral, “my people” (white skin, wealthy, Christian, woman, American, and Texan) and even the moon has her say. Most of these push the definition of memoir, yet all come from my experience and find their “voice” through me. All of these “memoirs” speak with an eye to supporting change from the personal to the global levels.

It was a writing task, to be sure. I’ve always written, but writing a book required lots of learning and relearning the craft of words as well as putting myself at the mercy of great editors. Nevertheless, learning how to write a book was the easy part.

Diving back into the nooks and crannies of my life and the world around me was the demanding part. I looked at things I thought were true about myself and the world around me. I was humbled to see how often I was POSITIVE, yet wrong.

Standing in the light, wide awake and seeing things for the first time, was demanding. Sometimes I hid under my mother’s blue afghan. Often I doubted I was up to the task of learning and change. In the end, however, I surrendered, naked as a baby.

That process continues every day.

In her exploration of the fairy tale “Vasalisa the Wise” from Women who Run with the Wolves (page 108), Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes about these demands of living an conscious life:

“… watching and comprehending of the negative forces and imbalances both inward and outward. Secondly, it causes striving in the gathering up of will in order to do something about what one sees, be it for good, or balance, or to allow something to die.

“… we clearly see all sides of ourselves and others, both the disfigured and the divine and all conditions in between.

“Yet, with this light the miracles of deep beauty in the world and in humans come to consciousness. With this penetrating light one can see past the bad action to the good heart, one can espy the sweet spirit crushed beneath hatred, one can understand much instead of being perplexed only.”

In the end, getting naked through a memoir was the only structure I found powerful enough to dive deeply into race, class and gender in order to support the great turning that is so needed in our world today.

I’d love to hear your bare stories too. Too much is at stake for us to continue to hide beneath layers and layers of silence.

First in a series of five blogs about memoir.

May 21, 2013

Keep it Short

It was back to the elevator speech. Or a response to a polite inquiry into the content of my emerging book. Short. Simple. Just a taste.

For a woman who loves to dive deeply into gargantuan topics, the thought of short or simple used to send me into a panic. I couldn’t even imagine how to boil my words down to a description that felt true and made any sense.

With a lot of hand holding and expertise from Jen Violi, my writing coach, creative dula and content editor, I found my way to the following short book description:

Big Topics at Midnight: A Texas Girl Wakes Up to Race, Class, Gender and Herself defies easy categorization. It’s memoir and history and a celebration of the power of faith, myth and magic. It’s personal, and it calls for social change. Through the lenses of race, class, gender and spirituality, Nancy Thurston excavates history—personal, familial, global—for the sake of cross-generational healing and transformation.

Then last week I had 3-4 minute interview on Portland’s KATU AM Northwest show. No succinct description written out and read. But the instructions were the same. Short. Simple. Just a taste.

Slowly I am learning the art of brevity. Stretching out the boundaries of my preferences, I am experimenting with the power of holding both the full, deep-sea dive and the teaspoon taste.

April 1, 2013

Story as Wake-Up Call

Outside, the stars twinkled. Inside, the sanctuary was dark. In the back aisle near the church doors, we heard the quick striking of flint and steel and flame burst forth as the charcoal fire was lit. Incense and smoke billowed. Words I’ve heard every Easter Vigil, were spoken, “On this most holy night, in which our Lord Jesus passed over from death to life, the Church invites her members, dispersed throughout the world, to gather in vigil and prayer.” The large Pascal candle was lit, and soon the flame was shared from person to person until the whole sanctuary was aglow.

This was part of the big story, a central spiritual story of my faith tradition, held within the Episcopal liturgy. These sacred stories are shared over and over again until they work themselves into our bones.

Easter morning I slipped on the stairs and jammed my right knee, flaring up a forty-five year old injury from my short stint in a junior high school ballet class. Hobbling around on a day of resurrection seemed like a strange way to participate in the celebration, but it was the best I could muster.

Life is a weaving of stories. Mine. Yours. Sacred stories. Daily stories. From past to future, cosmic to global to intimate. From the mouths of strangers to enemies to beloved partners. Stories keep our edges supple and remind us who we are and whose we are.

I’ve been playing with technology and stories that emerged from my book, Big Topics at Midnight: A Texas Girl Wakes Up to Race, Class, Gender and Herself. Today, on Easter Monday, I am announcing the addition of my first YouTube video on the home page of my website. It is the first of five. The words are excerpted from an audio interview, with the images by book illustrator Khara Scott-Bey and a variety of photographs.

Enjoy. And continue to tell your stories. Our future depends on it.