The other night the wind bellowed through the high pines, tearing through, and cracking branches, scattering them across the ground like sentence fragments. It howled in a song of pressure, tumult, and global currents. The white pines thrashed, and the black birches jittered; the wind shook them to their roots.
Last week my ninety-two-year-old uncle talked about caring for his wife in her dementia before she died. He spoke of watching her pain and her anger at him when he tried to help, and his grief because she no longer knew who he was. His voice, no longer sturdy, held every moment of her confusion, their shared exhaustion, and his steadfastness. He spoke of his beloved, then he told me that he was preparing the Feast of 7 Fishes for his family of twelve. “Linguini and clams to begin,” he said.
The voices of the trees and my uncle got me thinking about the writing I hear every week. My job is to listen, to attend, to comprehend, to be attuned. I am witness to and participant in the universes created in my presence. I think deeply about the quality of listening that every being needs. Both the wind and my uncle have hard and loving stories to tell. Listening is my job. I have the privilege to receive not only what is being told to me but to witness the creation of story. One very revered book says: ‘In the beginning was the word.’
It is my honor to witness without putting myself in the way of the narrative. Listening has become a kind of devotion. In these short, dark days, the light we afford each other is through leaning in, quieting the busy mind, the striving nerves, and opening ourselves to another being’s truth and mystery. My years of teaching and writing have revealed that every creature has a profound and fundamental need to be heard. By listening, we allow for breathing, healing.
The treetops swept and scoured the sky, cleaning the debris and bringing clarity to the air that followed. We can’t always bring the stars, the miracle oils, the frankincense, the angel bells, or the feather dusting of pure, driven snow. A great deal is asked of us in these short, dark days. We are remembering, hoping, waiting for the return of light. We fear the dark and the silence, but it’s when we’re out of the glare and in the quiet that we most often recognize what we need most: to find each other and listen to the whispers of our hearts.
Publications
Maud & Addie “Sure to enchant, Maud & Addie is a touching novel complete with old skeletons, new friends, and the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood.” Vivian Turnbull, Foreword Reviews. To purchase: https://regalhousepublishing.com/product/maud-and-addie/
blessed are the menial chores “Should anyone ask what poetry is, hand them a copy of this book.” Sue Brannan Walker, poet laureate of Alabama 2003 – 2012. Purchase here: https://www.writingfulltilt.com/author/
Upcoming Events
Weekly Writing Workshops
I offer a free-range writing experience based in respect, serious exploration and a sense of play. Each workshop includes a variety of voices and an opportunity to share a manuscript with the group.
This eight-week session is $360 Contact: maureen@maureenbjones.com
Monday Evenings: 6:30 a.m. – 9:00 p.m. EST January 16th – March 6th
Prompt Photo
