This week was the start of my Bard Open Society University Network class, Women Write the World, and perhaps not surprisingly the class attracted young women from two places where getting an education has become difficult: Myanmar and Afghanistan.
For starters, to get the students jazzed, I shared two high-profile poetry performances by the amazing American Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman: “This Sacred Scene,” her recent poem for the Democratic National Convention, and "The Hill We Climb," which she presented at the inauguration of President Joe Biden.
I also shared a short TED talk she gave, "Using Your Voice is a Political Choice," which to me is another way of saying "writing to right the world."
As I discussed with my students, every time we speak our truths, in whatever genre or context, we are making a political choice to show up and, as Gorman puts it, "stand for" what we believe.
Through the process of writing my memoir, What I Forgot...and Why I Remembered, I realized that I wanted to stand for the natural world I had so loved as a child, and had been alienated from by my education and life choices as an adult.
I finished the memoir as I came into my 50s, coming back in midlife to the passions of my childhood and youth, and vowing to dedicate the rest of my life to "doing hope together" with others, engaging in the sweet labor of "writing to right the world."
Here’s a short excerpt from the end of the book:
There are grounds for great hope now, even though the daily barrage of bad news continues unabated. Taking a longer view, I can foresee a time when the feminine principle of nurturing will combine with the masculine principle of protection to usher in an era of balance and harmony on our planet—the bleak Anthropocene turned into a verdant Androgynocene as human wisdom and ingenuity, channeled into stewardship, make it possible for all to thrive in integral communion with the abundance of Gaia.
As my narrative moves in towards the present moment, I throw out my story like a rope bridge connecting to yours, for what is urgently needed now is that we come together to share in the great work of repairing our selves, our societies, and our world. How will you add your piece of mosaic to the great ongoing story of human life on earth? Will we work together to collectively create a work of harmony and beauty, like a great stained glass window or the living canvas of a remote wilderness? Or will our presence as humans on Earth leave behind only a post-apocalyptic rubbish heap? Contemporary pop culture very often shows us the latter vision, and we are at a crucial juncture now—the story could go either way. Which way will you choose? Just as chaos theory says that the wind from a butterfly’s wings is felt throughout the world, you and I cannot predict, and should not underestimate, the personal and planetary effects of our small daily choices....
The psychologist Kaethe Weingarten says hope is a verb—and it assumes its most powerful form in the first person plural. I want to spend the rest of my life out in the forests and fields of Gaia, and in circles of thoughtful people, doing hope together: overcoming fear, moving beyond silence and creating for ourselves and our descendants the once and future heaven on Earth that we forgot, a long time ago, and must remember now.
For me, today, doing hope means not surrendering to doom-and-gloom thinking, or panic about the future.
Doing hope means savoring each day to the fullest, focusing on the glass half full instead of fixating on what's missing or going wrong.
Doing hope means finding kindred spirits to walk this path with me, in person, online and as they show up in my life as worldwrights, writing to right the world with their books, articles and talks.
Doing hope means putting my talents in service to others who are working for the thriving future we yearn for—that is what I do with my Green Fire Press, dedicated to "books that make the world better," and my author coaching, editing, manuscript review and public speaking support.
Doing hope means taking care of those I love, and to do this I must care for my own body, mind and spirit, knowing that unless I am vigorous and clear, I cannot be of use to anyone else.
For me the recipe for taking care of myself includes reading, drawing, yoga, good food, spending time in nature and with family and friends, horseback riding, travel and keeping my mind free of media pollution.
What about you? How do you do hope, alone and with others? How do you take care of yourself, so you can be there to help others?
Come write with me online….
Exploring the Keys to Purposeful Memoir: Ancestral Archeology
Monday, September 9 at 10 am Eastern, explore how your ancestors’ lives impacted the way your own life has unfolded in a lively online workshop. What legacies are you proud to continue, and what would you prefer to jettison as you move towards a thriving future for yourself, your community and our world?
Sponsored by Berkshire Osher Institute for Lifelong Learning (OLLI) at Berkshire Community College. Berkshire OLLI members $15, non-members $20.
COMING SOON:
Dates for my June 2025 Riding & Writing trip to Hestaland in Iceland, and October 2025 Memoir Writing Retreat in Tuscany with Il Chiostro will be finalized soon.
Friends, it’s my pleasure and my passion to support you as we stretch towards living our lives creatively and to the fullest.
The motto of my author consulting business is “Writing to Right the World,” and the motto of my book publishing business, Green Fire Press, is “Books that Make the World Better.”
If these intentions resonate with you and you are working on a book, or have one in mind, don’t hesitate to get in touch!
Supporting creative people bring their work more strongly out into the world is one way I try to make the world better.
Writing to Right the World is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Writing to Right the World is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.