Friday Dispatch: Dragonfly Writing
A light touch can be good (enough)
Friday greetings,
So, it seems I’m in a season of what feels like somewhat superficial writing. By “superficial,” I don’t mean meaningless or trivial or less-than. More something akin to a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface.
When the external happenings in life take up more room, as they are for me at the moment, I remind myself (and you, sweet reader) that something is more than nothing, and everything counts.
And with that, here are 11 things with a light touch, along with a short musing about the idea of “it was good.”
It’s 11:11. Make a wish!
OK, well, it’s maybe not 11:11 now while you are reading this words, but the fact that it is 11:11 as I begin writing them counts, right? Right.
I text my kids: ✨✨✨
My phone created a little slideshow from last weekend, which Aviva and I spent together in NYC. We lucked out with the weather and had a wonderful time. Here’s some of what the photos show me:
A windy afternoon walking in Red Hook. The relief of the bus after 14,000 steps in boots. Amazing makers of all kinds in Industry City. Perfect tagliatelle and affogato. Buenos días and cafés con leche and four-tiered wedding cakes on display. Breakfast in Dumbo. The Brooklyn Flea Market and point & shoot cameras and walking across the Brooklyn Bridge with what felt like humanity at its best, including two strangers asking me if I was ok when I crouched down to rest my aching lower back. (Thank you, strangers, and yes, I was and am ok.) Catbird in Soho and a timeless gold locket for her to carry my forever love. Pastries and lattes. A meet-up with a second cousin in Bryant Park. A dazzling array of humans enjoying the green on a sparkling spring afternoon. Za’atar and more za’atar. The thrill of Carnegie Hall and the train afterward. The rock star parking spot in front of Absolute Bagels Sunday morning, and the guy behind us in line who was game for me to Venmo him $20 in exchange for cash. All the dogs. Pigeons who own the block and know it. The quiet, rainy drive home. All the parts that are linked arms and wordless. I realize we are five generations of Brooklyn, and happily adopt the motto I didn’t know before last Friday: Name it. We got it.
See, this is how 11s go. There is no one way, no right way. Every time is different. Not every time you sit down to write will be lightning bolts and gorgeous prose. That’s why we call it practice.
Practice is not sexy.
Or… it is the sexiest.
It all depends on your perspective.
I booked flights to Colorado in August to move my son into his first dorm room. Brain short-circuit!
And here we are again, coming in for a landing. It’s not necessarily satisfying or conclusive. There’s no big resolution, no shiny bow. And that, too, is part of it.
This reminds me of something we talked about at this week’s Jewish Studio Project facilitation training webinar, which is the phrase from Genesis: Ki tov. And it was good.
We talked about what constitutes “good.” And this makes me think about creation, and how it is an iterative, ever-occurring, ever-evolving, ever-changing process.
Yes, there were the first six days when God made a bunch of things, and yes, God rested on the seventh day. And we have that as this wonderful point of reference to explore and embody. But it doesn’t stop at seven, it simply goes back to one, and we start all over again (and again, and again, and again).
The cycles of Jewish tradition, the cycles of life, the cycles of writing, the cycles of the body, the cycles of the moon and sun and stars and planets, the cycles of seasons, the cycles of relationships, the cycles of doing our best and missing the mark and that’s an inevitable part of it, the cycles of falling down and getting up and forgiveness and tenderness, the cycles of decay and renewal, of up and down and in and out – all of this strikes me just now as such a miracle.
Ki tov. And it was good.
It was good enough to rest for the night.
It was good enough to look around and say, wow, nice.
It was good enough to rise again the next day, to look around, to ask:
What else will we make? Who else might we become?
I would love to share the practice of writing 11s with you.
I call this group The Sound of Real Life Happening because it is all about listening – to your own inner voice and to the world around you. Your writing might be a deep dive or a feather-touch or some unexpected combination thereof. The point is to practice and see what happens.
Our cozy and welcoming private Facebook group is limited to 11 people, and spots are already filling up. I hope you’ll join me! The cost is $121.
Click here to register ✍️🪶🌷🎉
Shabbat Shalom and love,
Jena