Courage Quote

Offered by Mamie, the Quote Queen:

The highest courage is to dare to appear to be what one is.
- John Lancaster Spalding, First Bishop of Peoria, 1840-1916.

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The Many Brands of Courage

What's bold for one person is routine for another. We all know that, but I find it so easy to forget--until once again I see someone confidently run a multi-team project that would make me want to retire to a quiet room like a rock singer with exhaustion. Or until I see someone quaking over something I don't blink at--like flying or public speaking.

I find it very hard to wrap my mind around being worried about flying. No effort is necessary, no getting-it-right. One need only sit there and flip through a magazine. To understand that kind of fear, I need the sharp memory of some of my own kinds of nervousness: about entertaining, or being a house guest, or steering someone wrong somehow. Those are stupid fears, the first two anyway.

We all manage to do and finally enjoy things we're scared of. It's a triumph we ought to give ourselves credit for. And it's a marvel and a delight how differently we're each put together.

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Gavriel Lipkind, Carrie Knowles, and the B.C.O.

I don't know how to say this properly, because I know so little about classical music. I'm a fan of hip-hop and old rock and roll. I play the serious stuff mainly as background while I'm reading, and go to classical concerts mainly to get dressed up and go out on the town with friends and sit under nice chandeliers and listen to pretty music that I don't usually recognize.

But last night I went to a concert that was extraordinary. Even for a clunk like me.

Israeli cellist Gavriel Lipkind played with the Brussels Chamber Orchestra (of Belgium) in Raleigh in the official opening night of the Cross Currents Chamber Music Arts Festival, an international chamber music festival created and put on single-handedly by my friend and office partner Carrie Knowles whose son Neil Leiter plays viola in the Brussels group.

For most of the last year, Carrie has sat in the office next to mine and raised money and gotten visas and such and made this ten-day festival happen. What she has done is an amazing demonstration of what one person can accomplish (in spite of my telling her repeatedly and unhelpfully that she was mad to attempt such a thing. Just watching the process from next door was like having an office next to a heliport)

Well, the Brussels Chamber Orchestra, a conductor-free group of a dozen or so young musicians from half a dozen countries, played beautifully and were intriguing to watch. Then they brought out their soloist, Lipkind, whom I'd had no special interest in because I was mainly listening for Neil whom I've known since he was a wee fellow. The Belgium-based musicians had met the Israeli cellist in Norway.

Lipkind and the BCO together were an astonishing treat. And at intermission, I caught sight of Mamie, a regular here, who called out: I'm looking forward to reading about how bold he is.

I hadn't even thought about writing of the experience. Sitting on the second row, I was too overwhelmed. Lipkind, in a black "bat" shirt and long gold curls, is the most physically expressive, playful, and joyous musician I've ever seen. It's not reaching for a metaphor to say that he was making love to the music.

I can't tell you a thing about his or anyone's pizzicati (and I'm not sure if that's a word or if it's a word meaning little pasta), but it was thrilling music to watch and to listen to. And the interaction between him and the other musicians was like watching a celestial drama.

Seriously bold. Nobody holding back.

And this group of musicians and Carrie did their job well, at least in my case, since it's part of their mission to bring chamber music to new audiences.

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An Annual Celebration of Courage

The Fourth of July is a celebration of boldness. From one year to the next, I forget that it’s more than a day that the mail doesn’t come, more than a day of vacation. (Though I’m self-employed, I generally loaf on the same days the rest of my world does.)

But yesterday both Prairie Home Companion and the celebration on the Mall in D.C. stirred once again my pride in the best of the U.S., and that includes having shaken loose to become an independent nation. It took some serious and costly shaking to make that happen. Some of my scrappy old relatives were in on it—all but one on the side of Independence (and that one Royalist had to have had a bold streak as well).

This legacy isn’t all good; one of the same relatives led a company of soldiers that destroyed several Native American villages.

I’ll probably never pick up a musket myself—or a handgun. I’m lucky never to have been faced with the decision. A big piece of that “luck” is that others have insured my independence. My responsibility is merely to have the courage to fully—and wisely—use it. Once again, the fireworks and the music remind me.

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Ropes Courses and Such

I have a friend who, with her husband, has raised three exceptional children. One of her philosophies is, instead of giving children toys, to give them "real things." They didn't do skateboards or TV (except for the World Series). But if a kid wanted a banjo, he got a real one, not a baby version. And instead of playing board games of risk, he competed by volunteering in a real political campaign.

I thought of this again when I saw last week in my local paper a story on mountain climbing as a way to develop the goal orientation and other qualities needed to start a business. My philosophy is: skip the mountain challenge (unless you're in it for the fun) and go straight to starting the business.

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"The Man on The Radio in the Red Shoes"

A stirring way to celebrate the bold occasion of Independence Day: Prairie Home Companion's live show tomorrow at 5:00 Central Time in the Wobegon-like town of Avon, Minnesota. The program also celebrates the 35th anniversary of Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home creation, as well as "the birth of freedom," as GK says on the promo on the website. For those who can make their way to Avon, the show is free, as it also is on its regular NPR stations.

And if you're a GK fan, as I am, make sure to see the new documentary on his life: The Man on the Radio in the Red Shoes. It aired two night ago on PBS' American Masters series, and you can order the DVD. This portrait shows a bold imagination at work and will at the same time make you feel happy to be American and human.

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Call Your Congressman Monday

An invitation arrived here that's open to anyone who has things to say about improved health insurance coverage:


"Event: National Strike for Health Care Reform

"Put an end to murder by spreadsheet. Demand an alternative to private, for-profit health insurance. Demand public, universal health care coverage."

What: Protest
Host: You -- and as many fellow citizens as you can assemble
Start Time: Monday, July 6 at 8:00am
End Time: Monday, July 6 at 6:00pm
Where: Everywhere in the United States of America

To see more details and RSVP, follow the link below:
http://www.facebook.com/n/?event.php&eid=93893269141&mid=a8e182G4b0e108aG8f29dbG7"

I don't have a detailed plan in mind myself for health care insurance reform. But I know for sure that we need it.

This invitation, as you'll see if you follow the link, suggests staying home from work and buying nothing and calling Congressmen all day.

I disagree, especially in this economy, with the idea of skipping out on a job and boycotting already-endangered retailers.

I do heartily endorse the idea of a nation-wide call-in insisting on reform that makes sure everybody has good affordable health insurance, with coverage that is pro-health rather than a Catch-22 system where, for example, it's impossible to know whether a procedure is covered until it's done.

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Making Waves

Out in my kayak on Jordan Lake on Sunday, I made several dozen efforts to shoot a picture of a wave.

This is not an ocean wave. It's a lake wave on a fairly calm day; mostly it's wake from a motorboat. But up close from a little rubber boat, such waves can look and feel pretty impressive.

Which is how it is with making waves in daily life. Moments of unaccustomed speaking up can seem huge, disruptive. But the water does calm down again.

Water movement in a pond can make life better there; keeps it from getting stagnant.

(Speaking of appearances, the water in this lake is more blue-brown than cerulean most of the time. I didn't see it as this blue when I was taking this picture. And I didn't enhance the color of the photo with my computer. Just a bit of kayaking magic, I guess.)

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Busy Reading Manuscripts

Today's the last day of my Big Bold Sale, after having cut my prices for manuscript critiques by 40% for these past four weeks of June.

Now I'm reading and reading. I'm glad to be doing the work, and it's nice to make a Bold Gesture and get big response. I've met some new writers from both halves of the globe (all English-speaking) and heard from a lot of people I've worked with before.

So now there's the matter of finishing the work itself, which feels not so much bold as step by step by step. That's what often happens, I think, when a Bold Move turns out well.

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Bloom Whereever You're Rolling

I'm fond of cars that are highly personalized, having done shocking things to my own '92 Camry, my "shabby chic" artcar.

Last week, teaching at Meredith, I had the pleasure of parking next to an especially jaunty and charming one. Its owner, writer Beth Browne, bought it with its decorations already attached; however, it seemed to have been designed specifically for her. Imagine every car in a parking lot being a personal work of art. There'd be an ever-changing party in every lot.

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Boldly Catching Up

Just slept 11 hours. The last week, with the five-day, nine-to-three workshop plus a few other things happening and coming due, was intense. When I woke up midday today, I thought: is there anything better than this? the luxury of lying here?

A friend once said that she enjoyed being tired once she gave in to it. I don't at first, because at first it feels like illness. But being well into recovery feels great. And I'll be back to full steam probably late this afternoon when I get out in my little paddle boat. All emails to be returned tomorrow.

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Parting

Saying good-bye makes me nervous. Maybe it's because it's the last chance to have everything said, at least for a while.

Today was the last of my 5-day workshop at Meredith on writing fiction. I've spent 35 hours with this group of writers in the last week, and, inevitably, we talk about some fairly intimate stuff. Writing brings that sort of thing out.

So it feels strange to finish the last lunch and maybe not see some of them again at all. My impulse is to dodge good-bye, grab up my picnic-basket-briefcase and run.

Maybe somewhere there are workshops in saying goodbye. Perfectly reasonable that such a thing would exist. If we can take lessons in leadership and assertiveness and stopping smoking, surely it's possible.

Probably lesson number one is: pause and at least say something before running out the door. I'm happy to say I did boldly manage to do that much.

It's so hard to know what to do with emotion, at least for chatty introverts like me.

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Refreshing Without Relaxing

This week of teaching regular hours is both a break in my usual routines and a much more regimented new routine. The class day runs from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., with a nice lunch buffet at noon.

Unlike my usual daily arrival at my office, I have to get to the classroom on time, stop for lunch at the assigned time, and then wrap it up at the expected moment. I'm not used to thinking: mustn't be late, or having the pleasure of the sudden school's-out feelig when the class ends. Usually I leave my office between 7 and 8 at night and usually I'm in the middle of something; it's not with a sense of completion that I go.

Also a change, I'm driving to a different location this week, a different set of flowers and stoplights and vistas and traffic bumps.

The brief change even toward stricter routine is refreshing. I'm not one who thinks all change is good, but temporary change can certainly help to clear the haze off the vision. It's worth getting up the energy to make such changes for ourselves.

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Free to Pontificate

Useful talk today in the writing workshop I'm leading this week at Meredith College--useful for me, as it happens. We were talking about writing dialogue, and the vocabulary and sentence construction that makes a person sound authoritative or timid.

I said I use "I think..." too much before making my pronouncements while giving feedback on people's work. What I'm trying to do is not be bossy, which my younger brothers have observed I'm capable of. But I overdo the soft-pedaling. One of the writers in the group said she doesn't need all that I-think kind of preamble.

What a relief to hear someone say that. Now I feel free to be as bossy and commanding/assertive as I want to, since others do know without my telling them that they are free write any way they want.

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Too Revealing? Oh, Well

Second class day at the Meredith Writers Workshop. This afternoon we held the faculty readings. The three of us--poet Betty Adcock, novelist and memoirist Nancy Peacock, and I--all chatted and read for about 15 minutes each to an audience of the combined classes.

I read the opening few pages of my novels Sister India and Revelation and told the group where the idea had come from for each. Well, that's fairly personal. They now know a lot more about me than they did. I often wonder whether I've gone too far, offered Too Much Information. That's probably true for at least a few people in any audience.

But I'm pretty much past actually worrying about it, which is a relief. Because once you start second-guessing what people in an audience think, you're in for a lot of wasted time and energy.

I think a part of why I like public speaking is that trying to do it just right for everybody is so obviously impossible that I don't worry about it and say what I want. It's paradoxically freeing.

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First Day of School

Sylvan setting; bold students.
I'm teaching a one-week fiction-writing class for adults on the summer-lovely campus of Meredith College in Raleigh this week. Today was the first day.

Sometimes people in a newly formed group hang back a little at being among the first to read from their work, or the first to comment on someone else's work.

Not these ten women. They launched in from the first instant, and didn't seem to think anything of it. Promises to be a good week.

Today we talked about plot, what makes a story a story. (Answer: a main character with an urgent problem that has to be resolved in spite of dreadful obstacles, internal and external, by the end of the story. And the problem needs to be one that threatens the character's identity, her sense of who she is.)

I've taught at this annual writing week before, but hadn't planned to do it this summer. And then my friend who was scheduled to teach had to drop out. I dropped in. (Bold of me, yes?)

Tomorrow: developing characters from the inside out. These ten bold women already know a lot about that.

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Getting High School Dropouts to Save the World

Van Jones, described as "a genius from the hood," is founder of an environmental group called Green For All. He is aiming to "'green the ghetto.'" A New Yorker article shows him giving a talk to a group of high school dropouts gathered in a public library.

"'I love Barack Obama,' he said. 'I'd pay money just to shine the brother's shoes. But I'll tell you this. Do you hear me? One man is not going to save us. I don't care who that man is. He's not going to save us.And, in fact, if you want to be real about this--can y'all take it?I'm going to be real with y'all. Not only is Barack Obama not going to be able to save you--you are going to have to save Barack Obama.'"

What he's saying is: help "the brother" save the economy and the planet. He needs you. Everybody needs you. And you can prosper and flourish in the process.

Jones goes on to say: "'The challenge is making this an everybody movement,...that kid on the street corner putting down his handgun, picking up a caulk gun."

I have to say, I'd be happy to shine this brother's shoes, especially if he pulls it off. He's using the energy of support for Obama in people who've rarely cared who the president is to take on global warming, poverty, delinquency, apathy, and crime, all in one swoop. Bold and brilliant!


Addenda: The photo's from my sunset paddle out on NC's Jordan Lake yesterday.

Obama has appointed Jones special advisor for green jobs, enterprise and innovation.

Jones's book is The Green Collar Economy.

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Some Background on Being Bold

I've always hated speeches that start off: "According to Webster's, the word (honor, graduation, success, character, etc.) means..."

However, it does say a lot about a concept to look at where it came from. And after all, a lot of us here do some writing. So here's BOLD from Merriam-Webster:

"Pronunciation:
\ˈbōld\
Function:
adjective
Etymology:
Middle English, from Old English beald; akin to Old High German bald bold
Date:
before 12th century

1 a: fearless before danger : intrepid b: showing or requiring a fearless daring spirit 2: impudent, presumptuous 3obsolete : assured, confident4: sheer, steep 5: adventurous, free (a bold thinker) 6: standing out prominently7: being or set in boldface"

Just reading that definition/history makes me feel like being intrepid and impudent and dressing in medieval clothes. And now that I think about it: the artist Elisabeth Chant whose biography I've been researching for some time spent the last decades of her life wearing medieval-style clothes--and in my then-conservative hometown of Wilmington, NC. That woman was truly bold.

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A Hidden Cost of Chickening Out

"The fascinating thing about self-sabotaging behavior is that it actually takes an enormous amount of energy and mental stress, much more than if you just took the action you wanted or needed to do in the first place. The mental stress of feeling behind or beating yourself up for how a situation in your life could have been better is a lot more work than moving forward with your original plan of action."

From Maureen Keyte of the Spirited Woman.

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How to Stand Waiting for News

A curious thing about waiting: some research I read recently said that people who've recently learned they have cancer are in better shape emotionally and show less physiological sign of stress than those who are waiting to hear their biopsy results.

So when waiting is wearing us down, here's a bold thought: there's no reason to fear, because we're already going through the worst of it. Getting the news, whatever it is, will provide some relief.

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