READ
I don't read as much as I used to. When I was in middle school, over the summer, I would read the entire Little House on The Prairie set over and over. I would read all day, sitting outside at the day camp I attended. But for the past year or so, I haven't found anything that would hold my interest for that long. I read magazines, I read short stories when I travel, I listen to audio books. I've tried taking only baths and reading in the bath, I've tried reading at night. I wasn't upset but there were books I wanted to have read but I didn't have the focus to sit and read.
One day I was giving away a pile of books (not because I have given up on reading, these were books I have already read). I stopped at one of the many free little libraries in residential streets on my way to work. I saw a copy of Dune. I remember when the movie came out, I remember the images for the movie poster. It was never a book I read or had much interest in. But I do like a paperback with a good design and as a bonus there is a map inside of the planet where the book is based. I threw it in my bag and took it home.
Over the next few weeks I read it every chance i got: in the bath, on break at work, in bed with a tiny light on so my sweetie could sleep. I'm not a huge science fiction fan (though the last book I had read was a selection of feminist sci-fi) but something about the book was captivating. When I came to the Litany against Fear, I made a note of the page number and knew what my next postcard would be.
I had no idea that the passage was famous that it might be on coffee mugs and high school yearbooks. But it appealed to me as I think a lot about fear, about things I am afraid of, about how to look at those things, see them, acknowledge them, and act not react to them.
I was telling everyone who would listen about Dune as if I had discovered a new treasure. And I had. Years after everyone else.
PS I was looking for a clip of the movie without an ad and then I found this. Which I like better.
Drumpf for President?
For April, I was inspired by the daily news, mostly the Rachel Maddow show podcast I listen to every morning. It is unbelievably easy to find lists of offensive things Trump has said while running for president. It makes me angry and sad. Because he has supporters. People like what he is saying. And that is what is scary to me.
60 Seconds
Keep Writing number 84
For March, I was inspired by a Gabriel Marcia Marquez quote:
For every minute you sleep, you lose sixty seconds of light.
I wrote it down years ago, when I slept less. But now I think of it as more about paying attention, of being awake and aware. Of course, the part of me that doesn't sit still (the internalized capilatlism, as Claire calls it) also likes to stay busy, not waste time. But lately I have been also taking it slow, walking, looking for quiet and just looking around. It is easy to look one but I have been trying mroe often to sit with a spot, notice details and be still. And that is what I asked folks to do this month. See responses at www.keepwritingpostcards.tumblr.com .
oh, when I send these out I mentioned typos. There were two:
I asked people to sit for sexty seconds
and I suggested getting a montlhy subscription. You can get your subscription too. And I will work on proofreading. Most embarrasing it that these were writtne digitally not handset.
Shark Attack!
For November's postcard, I wanted to accomplish two things:
- experiment with overlaying two colors to create a third color
- make something with the image of a shark to be included in the annual animal themed fundraiser at the Practice Gallery in Philadelphia.
You many not have even realized that I have goals each month, that I am not just making up designs willy-nilly. Well, there is some of that too. But it is nice to have a goal, a chance to refine a skill, or just show off. When I was training on the Heidelberg at Painted Tongue Studios, I didn't quite realize how tight the registration was on their designs. (Oh, non-printer side note here: in letterpress each color is laid down individually, on a separate run through the press. So if the design has two colors that are close together with fine lines, it is important that they line up. That is called registration.) Once in a while they would lay one color onto another, often using a cool red and a green to create brown. The card would have three colors with only two runs through the press (and with your fellow printer-in-training only crying once or twice). When I left Painted Tongue, I opted for a much more loose style. Until I remembered the magic of overlays. And so here I was, wanting to use a little more green in my print without having to clean off the press and add that color. Viola, my favorite teal made of lime green and bright blue.
As for the shark, you may have noticed that most of my designs are text-heavy. I also like to look through Dover books of old printers cuts--things that would be lead images if I had moveable type. Since I don't I make my own plates form old cuts. But once in a while I can't find what I need. I barely passed my drawing classes in school, but it is fun to practice. This is what you get. This creeper. I made a few prints which were hand colored and then stored away somewhere. I really need to get back to cleaning up my studio.
PS Thanks Charity for asking me to participate in the fundraiser. And yes, my name is Hope and I know someone named Charity. Also we are both from New Hampshire. True story.
Yes!
keep writing number 79
Since I started my yoga teacher training last January, I have been thinking of ways to combine my two forms of work--yoga and letterpress. This month, I introduced my first asana postcard. Asana means pose. Yoga is made up of a few different steps on the path to truth and asana is just one of these steps. It is what you might be most familiar with and what you think of when you think of a yoga class. For my training I memorized about 50 asana in english and sanskrit. To help with my studies, I made flashcards with stick figure drawings. What made this way more fun than rote memorization was on Saturday mornings when Andy would read the English word from the card and I would tell him the sanskrit and then do my best to demonstrate the pose. If only I had acted out my Italian verb flashcards! Maybe that would have helped.
For this card, I chose a pose I did not have to memorize, that is not in any of my texts. Yesasana was the namemy teacher used when she showed us this pose in class. Stand with your feet slightly wider than your hips, stand tall lifting your arms over head. Say yes! It was shown to us with the idea that this pose makes you feel confident and powerful and that just by standing with confidence you may feel more confident as you go into a meeting, give a speech or take a test. In contrast, if you allow your shoulders to hunch in towards your chest, hand your head, it may be harder you to feel powerful and positive. I like to practice this pose when I am tired or not my plan is about to work or before a long day of printing. Try it! Next time you are dreading something, or are nervous or unsure.
This seemed like a great month to try out the mobile postbox. The studio where I teach and practice, Square One Yoga agreed to host the box so students could participate and share their favorite poses. The postbox is there through the end of the month and I have already been receiving responses in the mail. Yes!
the set up this month at square one
Now There Are Only Words Left
http://www.beacon.org/New-and-Selected-Poems-Volume-One-P1082.aspx Mary Oliver reads her poem, "The Summer Day," Copyright 1990. "The Summer Day" first appeared in House of Light (Beacon Press, 1990), and has been reprinted in New and Selected Poems, Volume 1 (Beacon Press, 1992) and The Truro Bear and Other Adventures (Beacon Press, 2008).
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? ---Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
I know you've heard this one, I know you have heard this and maybe one other Mary Oliver poem, maybe a dozen times (depending on how many yoga classes and self-care workshops you've taken). But listen again. It is shared often for a reason.
There are cliches about death. About it making you reevaluate your life. It is a cliche because a death shakes up your life, your order. We don't talk about it enough, it is not a part of our cultural fabric, though it is so obviously the end of the cycle, the inescapable release from our bodies. Yet, the denial is strong, along with the anger and the other stages I am still working on.
In her the advice column Dear Sugar, Sugar tells a grieving man that her six year old son once told her: “We don’t know how many years we have for our lives. People die at all ages.” Meaning, we only have so many years. And then there are no more.
Sometimes when things were tough, and I didn't want to talk about the tough things anymore, I would write my friend a list of the good things, small things to appreciate that do not eliminate the difficult but make the hard times worthwhile.
So here is the good things list:
- Responses to Keep Writing number 77, how to deal with sadness, how to stay useful. I designed this and printed this before Travis died, before i had received the letter that said he was having a hard time. This is a coincidence. The great part has been the extra comfort from friends and strangers, hearing more about all our struggles and how we cope.
- Phone calls. I said I wanted to keep in touch with friend better since this happened. Sometimes I call. Not as frequent as I like, but there is at least one friend who I talk to more often and our conversations have been immensely comforting.
- NY I have been wanting to return to New England in October, my favorite and when home felt more like home. I have friends in Philly and Boston and Maine I'd like to see. Instead I have 4 days in NY but I am grateful to grieve with friends, to walk streets with changing leaves and smell crisp air.
- Poetry I haven't been reading as much poetry as I used to but I have been copying poems I like, with a typewriter and by hand, and collecting them, a small binder clip of words that speak to me. I like poetry because you have to slow down to read it, pay attention.
- Slowing Down As in reading poetry too i have been paring down my life, slowing down. It might not look that way, I am still very active, but I try not to waste time, to take more walks, to work hard at the things I love.
That's it for now. The hard part about lists is the tendency to oversimplify. And though some of these things are a result of something tragic and difficult, I still grieve, I still wish my friend could write back. I am still not ready to know he will never write back.
Keep Writing number 78, text by Travis Fristoe
Ten Years...
Keep Writing number 77
This month's Keep Writing postcard was inspired equally by something Louis CK said in an interview with Terry Gross, and by the month of sudden sadness I feel every summer. Though I love my birthday, it often leads to deep introspection, and the discoveries are often subtle and heavy at the same time.
The most lasting effect of the hurricane was the feeling of isolation and disconnect from my friends. I was traveling with a few of them, but the days where I could not contact others, how they could not contact us, that we left town without one friend who later told me how he got out (it involved sleeping in an abandoned car and riding a child size bicycle on the empty highway), and the following months of distrust towards strangers, the damaged feeling, the suspicion and hurt.
I've written about this, about how those of us already involved in the bike shop started spending all the daylight hours there. How we were happy to do something with our hands. How the movement calmed our minds, focused the energy.
It is difficult to be of use to sometime and also to find the time to wallow, which is not the same as mourning. Sadness isn't always also helplessness. There are things to be sad about . But we can't let it paralyze us. We have to be able to keep moving, making small circles with our fingers and toes, waking ourselves from slumber.
Small movements might not save you. Distractions might not save you. I have found that keeping busy in a useful way will help keep perspective for me. But sometimes you need more than that. Sometimes you need some one else to offer perspective. Talk to your friends and family. If you are feeling that you are without options it might be difficult to realize that you are not. I lost one friend after the hurricane to suicide and now recently another. The best we can do now is to help each other heal. Its a long month and I am grateful, so grateful, for friends who like late night talks, and don't mind a sudden change of plans and are ok sitting in the grass letting the feelings come. The point is to do what you need to to survive. And when you are no longer in crisis, you can start to see the way out, to make the healthy choices to sustain. This was a long hard lesson to learn, that I am still learning. Take care, y'all.
Photo from 2012
The Paths We Choose, part 2
gainesville 2006
When I designed last month's postcard about sadness and trying to stay useful, I had no idea a friend was going through such a difficult time. When I wrote about ways to deal with sadness, to feel useful and engaged, I did not know my friend was in rehab. A short letter came at the end of the month, and then, two days later, a small pile of book and a birthday note. They were brief, hopeful and yet still a surprise to me.
A week later he took his own life.
There are a lot of "what ifs" after a suicide. What if I had called? Did I tell him I love him in the last letter? Did he know? Did he even receive it? Unexpected deaths always carry the weight of a path severed, a plan altered. Here are the choices we make, here are the choices made for us, by others.
It is difficult to convey the weight of this loss. We had not seen each other in years but wrote frequently. The ripples of his kindness, generosity, willingness to listen, and sincerity affected many people I know all over the country. It has been comforting to see the social media outreach of people who knew him, the ever-growing circle of friends, acquaintances, pen pals, fans of his writing and music. It is too late to tell him one more time how much he meant to us, though whatever darkness he faced was clearly all engulfing. His struggle was fierce, he was full of love and sometimes that is not enough.
Reading through his letters and zines, I find references to difficulty and darkness, but always, always there is a strength, a determination to rise above. He fought a good fight and hopefully his words will continue to inspire others, encourage love and criticism as a form of love. If there must be a lesson let it be this: stay smart, alert, questioning and open, friends. Please don't stuff down the sadness, it is all a part of this. Bring it into the light. Love love love.
Travis Fristoe died August 7, 2015. There have been more than a few writings about how he affected those around him, and I especially appreciate this from Nate Powell. He is survived by a baby daughter, Astrid, his wife Avery and his stepdaughter. A fund was started to help this family, including baby Astrid, through this time and beyond. Contribute if you like at http://www.gofundme.com/4vrg8jw4 .
I doubt this will be the last I write of this. Maybe next time, there will be more stories. Like that time I was his houseguest for maybe too many weeks. I was homeless, traveling, dealing with a difficult break-up. I didn't sleep at night. More than one night I climbed the tree in front of his house as the sun came up, listening to tapes on a walkman, until his neighbors came out and left for work, kindly ignoring the girl in the tree. Travis never said I was a bad houseguest and let me visit a bunch more times after that. Rest in peace and power.