![💜[03/06] the creativity for good friday five](https://media.beehiiv.com/cdn-cgi/image/fit=scale-down,quality=80,format=auto,width=720,onerror=redirect/uploads/asset/file/8dd241b2-6f3c-4793-a7af-ae630280bad8/IMG_3033__1_.png)
Here we are again, dear ones. Another week, another war.
It feels borderline impossible to look at the world right now and feel anything but exhausted, heartsick, and terrified. Creatives are often tender-hearted people, and even those of us who are lucky enough to not be actively feeling the institutional violence of the world in this moment are still experiencing the collective grief of witnessing it. We’re showing up on the individual level, as much as we can, and of course those individual actions do matter, but when we’re faced with the looming tide of institutional power, it’s hard not to lose hope.
But as we know, hope is a discipline, and the best way I’ve found to practice it has always been to turn to poetry. So that’s what I’ve brought you today — five poems for grounding, for finding reminders to keep going, for building something better than what we have.
your friday five!
five poems for getting through the moment and creating for good
“Good Bones” (Maggie Smith)
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
Who are you protecting from the realities of the world, and what form is that protection taking? Are you looking out for a child? A vulnerable community member? Your own broken, tender heart? What vision of the world are you painting for them, through the stories you tell, the art you make, the ways you show up?
Prompt: Set a five minute timer, and write down as many of the world’s good bones as you can. Ignore the shithole. Ignore the “at least fifty percent terrible.” Imagine you are selling yourself the world. Create about it.
“Urgent Message to a Friend in Pain” (Joseph Fasano)
I have to tell you
a little thing about living,
(I know, I know, but listen),
a little thing I’ve carried
in the dark:
Remember when you saw the stars of childhood,
when you knelt alone and thought
that they were there for you,
lamps that something held
to prove your beauty?
They are they are they are they
are they are.
What are the stars you’re carrying in your pocket right now, and how are they showing up in your work? What are you holding onto — from happier times, from easier times, from times when you simply knew less about the world — to remind you of those feelings of hope, of wonder? How does holding onto those stars keep you moving? How are you offering them to others?
Prompt: Share a story or memory of your “stars,” whatever they might be, with a loved one. How does it feel to offer that to someone else? How did they respond? Create about it.
“THINGS YOU CAN ASK THE GROUP CHAT (INSTEAD OF ASKING CHAT GPT)” (Lacey Paige Ramburger)
where should we go on our next trip? / portland / no, cancun / no, italy /
how does this shirt look on me? / 1000/10, obsessed with this / should I
text my ex? / babe, no, it’s mercury in retrograde, plus we still hate him
/ should I finally dye my hair red? / god yes, it’s absolutely your color /
when can we see each other again? / my schedule is free next week,
what about everyone else? / what’s the name of that dairy-free cheese
you said was the best you’ve ever tasted? / rebel cheese, I’ll get some
for the charcuterie board for friday / what is my big three again? /
gemini, scorpio, libra / and what does that mean? / that you’re
mysterious, but love to yap, and everyone wants you / what did we think
about that stranger things finale? / I am still trying to process it / send
me some song recommendations today, I need new stuff to listen to /
making you a playlist right now / I’m so nervous about this job
interview, what if I mess it up? / you’ve been prepping for weeks, you’ll
do amazing? / I want to tell them how I feel, but what if they don’t feel
the same? / they will and if they don’t we will be here / will you pick
me up from the airport? / of course, what time? / is it time for me to get
another tattoo? / yes, but not without us / can i show you pics of my
new apartment? / send 100 of them, we want to see everything / do you
think we will still be this close when we’re 80 years old? / of course,
can’t get rid of us that easily / have I told you lately just how much I love
you all? / you do, every single day / guys, what would I do without
you? / I don’t know, but I’m so glad that we found each other / sorry for
all the questions lately / babe, don’t apologize, we may not have all the
answers, but we will always do our best to
be there for you.
Where do you find yourself automatically turning to technology, rather than connection? Consider: looking up the answer to a question instead of asking a real person, watching a video to learn a new skill instead of seeing if someone you know can teach you, using an AI tool to generate ideas (or more) instead of workshopping with a friend or a creative community, etc. How has the way you turn to technology changed over time? What have you gained? What have you lost? What might happen if you intentionally reached out to a person instead?
Prompt: Over the next week, pay attention to your tendency to turn (or not) to technology to answer a question, learn something new, or engage in creative work. Make at least three attempts to answer your question or solve your problem with a real person instead. How did it feel? Create about it.
“Don’t Hesitate” (Mary Oliver)
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or
about to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
What does it feel like to experience joy right now? When you notice yourself feeling joy, laughter, excitement, glee, delight, in the midst of The Horrors, what thoughts or other emotions come up? Do you feel grateful? Guilty? Do you tuck the feeling away, or try to share it with others? How do you feel about that reaction? Would you change it? Why or why not?
Prompt: Experiment with keeping a “joy journal” for a week — taking note of as many moments as possible when you feel even a spark of joy. Jot down what happened, how it felt, and how you reacted to that feeling. What comes up for you? Create about it.
“Instead of Depression” (Andrea Gibson)
try calling it hibernation.
Imagine the darkness is a cave
in which you will be nurtured
by doing absolutely nothing.
Hibernating animals don’t even dream.
It’s okay if you can’t imagine
Spring. Sleep through the alarm
of the world. Name your hopelessness
a quiet hollow, a place you go
to heal, a den you dug,
Sweetheart, instead
of a grave.
How does the way you approach the grief and pain of this moment shape the way it impacts you? Consider: Are you resting, or are you rotting? Have you stagnated in your growth, or are you encased in a chrysalis? How does the way you frame your emotions change the way you treat yourself? The way you approach your work? The way you show up in community? What difference would it make to treat yourself gently?
Prompt: What words, feelings, or concepts come up for you when you think about hibernation? Set a five-minute timer and write down as many as you can. How do you feel about your list? Create about it.
updates from shelly
Yesterday, we officially revealed the cover of Love Me Like a Rock Song, and it is GORGEOUS!
Amy Perez, the brilliant illustrator who created the cover of Rules for Ghosting, was kind enough to come back for another round, and she did an absolutely incredible job. I’m obsessed with the colors (the gradient reminds me very much of my friend Devra, who I wrote about a few newsletters back), and she managed to get so many nods to the story into the elements on the cover.
I’m so excited for everyone to read the book later this year. Preorder your copy today, and, as always —
See you next week!
💜Shelly
