Category: Daily Life (Page 1 of 2)

NOVEMBER, A MONTH TO SWIM IN THE SEA

December 7, 2024 / Laura Rink / 6 Comments

“This is a wonderful day, I have never seen this one before.” – Maya Angelou

This month, on November 6^th, the citizens of the United States elected their next president. On November 8^th, I left the country. I left my country for a planned trip to Central America.

In Central America, in the Caribbean Sea, I float. My heavy heart presses my body downward. Salted swells pitch me up. In a lullaby of lilting waves my body hovers, held in a melody of warm blue while at home a national symphony swells in a minor chord threatening to wreak major havoc. Havoc, what an odd word: n. widespread destruction; great confusion or disorder; v. lay waste to; devastate. Originally used in the phrase “cry havoc”: to give an army the order havoc. The order for plundering.

Can rights be plundered? Can freedom? “First they came for”. . . . by now you’ve read the poem. Reread the poem. Red poem. Heart’s blood. Lifeblood. Right to live, to love, freedom to be one’s own self, freely.

This month I read Crafting the Lyric Essay: Strike a Chord, by Heidi Czerwiec [sir wick]. So it follows I should be able to impart to you what a lyric essay is, what enables an essay to not just contain lyricism, but be labeled lyric. There is “a focus on patterning, and on resonances of sound and silence and image on the level of the language.” (Czerwiec 2024, 2) Patterns obvious, hidden, uncovered. Resonances of rhythm and repetitions. There is less narrative and more watching the author’s thought process unspool on the page, melody in the making. In writing, meaning is completed by the reader with their subjective associations, and this is more true in lyric work.

In the sea, the surge tugs me away from shore. I trust in what will happen next. I relax as the shore recedes. With the incoming wave I cup my hands, spiral my arms, and kick with all my might. I write because writing might be enough of a buoy to hold up my weighted heart.

This month back at home without the warm sea to resist my sinking, the heaviness in my body drops onto the page, sprawls into sentences, sayings, screams, gull cries distant in the spiral of my inner ear. I dream of salted inhales and spouted exhales. I seek the blue in sky smudged with clouds, underlined in fog, accented with snow-topped mountains.

This month I consider the uplift to be gained in advocating for “the love of,” instead of or in addition to, “the fear or hate of.” I consider. Patterns. Routine. Labyrinth. Going into and withdrawing from the page, the day, a song to lull you back, and to sing you out of bed and into the sea swell of your day.

Your day. Our day. This day.

P.S. To read is to gain understanding. Three lyric essays mentioned in Czerwiec’s book: Brian Doyle’s “Leap,” Kathy Fish’s “Collective Nouns for Humans in the Wild,” Nicole Walker’s “Fish.” There are book-length lyric essays: Maggie Nelson’s Bluets and Heather Christle’s The Crying Book. Anthologies:A Harp in the Stars: An Anthology of Lyric Essays, edited by Randon Billings Noble and The Lyric Essay as Resistance: Truth from the Margins, edited by Noë Bossiere and Erica Trabold.

OCTOBER, A MONTH WHEN I DO THINGS FOR MY FUTURE SELF

October 30, 2024 / Laura Rink / 4 Comments

This month I didn’t meet my short-term writing goals of chapter revision which means I won’t reach my long-term goal of having a complete draft of my Armenian family memoir finished before my sixtieth birthday in February. I’ve written before about what is needed to do the writing: time and headspace. This month both of those were in short supply as I prepared for, had, and recovered from a cardiac ablation, a medical procedure to put, hopefully, an end to my atrial fibrillation (AFib) episodes.

What I did do this month, I did for my future self. I gave my future self a shot at a better physical outcome, and I’m moving the goal posts on the timeframe for a complete draft.

Work: After debating last month whether to push forward with my current draft or start over from the beginning with a new draft, I did neither. But I did set up my future self to be able to do either or both of those things. What time and headspace I did have for creative pursuits went into the creative nonfiction workshop that wraps up this week. The structure of the workshop kept me focused. Every Wednesday I submitted a chapter with context and questions, and by Sunday I’d read and given feedback on the other participants’ work. The workshop feedback on my work has given my future self a road map for revisions of the individual chapters and much to consider in the overall structure and story of the book.

Whether it’s health or household related, creative or work related, you can take actions now that make for better outcomes for your future self. What could you do in the present as a gift for your future self?

Wonder: Wonder why we are still changing the clocks? In 2019, the Washington State legislature passed a bill to remain year round on Daylight Savings Time. But to do so requires the approval of the federal government, which hasn’t taken action. The last two years a bipartisan group of Washington State senators put forth a bill to have the state remain on Standard Time, which doesn’t require the approval of the federal government. But the bill never made it out of committee.

I am team Standard Time. Standard Time is better for school children and doesn’t require the approval of the federal government. Arizona and Hawaii are both already on standard time. In the 1970s, the whole country stayed on daylight savings time and hated it but that fact isn’t brought up in any of the current discussions over which time to stay on. Meanwhile this weekend we’ll return to Standard Time with more light in the mornings making it easier to start our days and with safer commutes for school children and everyone else.

How will your future self feel this weekend when the clocks fall back an hour?

Windows:

SEPTEMBER, A MONTH OF CHANGES

October 5, 2024 / Laura Rink / 4 Comments

While August was a month in which to soak up the warmth and outdoor activity of the summer season, September was a month of seasonal changes, especially as the month drew to a close, including the temperature (dropping, a bit quickly this year it seems), leaves shifting their color palette (a pleasure of this season), and the outside focus (a last camping trip) turning inward (cue the list of indoor projects).

Of course, the autumn weather will often be inviting, there is still the list of outdoor tasks to complete, and that finally final mowing, but the slowing rhythm of the season felt in the later sunrise and earlier sunset draws me inward.

Work: For me, the rhythm of my WIP (work in progress) has shifted from actively working on the second (or twenty-third, depending on how you tally) draft of my Armenian family memoir to participating in a creative nonfiction workshop where I’m receiving feedback on the first seven chapters, one week at a time. The feedback I’m receiving is making me consider returning, once again, to the beginning and starting yet another draft. I’ve known such a revision would be necessary but now, with the feedback, I’m starting to see the potential shape that new draft might take. Another part of me wants to keep pushing forward with the current draft, in my longing to have a whole complete thing, regardless of its merit. And I’m still lacking a structure to write into, at least one I can articulate to myself.

What are the pros and cons of starting over? Is there a value in pushing forward?

Wonder: Have you ever wondered what it is like to have a MRI? I have heard that procedure mentioned over the course of my life mostly in the context of an expensive last-resort or absolutely necessary scan. Recently, I had my first MRI, to check out my heart due to my abnormal heart rhythm, i.e., atrial fibrillation. First, let me say yay for the scientific minds that created this modern medical device that helps so many. But mostly I want to say WTF—a narrow tube? Why couldn’t it be something less confining, less tomb-like? And did I mention I have claustrophobia? In addition, MRI machines are the opposite of quiet. Great bursts of sounds similar to a car horn and grinding gears and a house alarm, so loud you are required to wear ear protection. While I’m grateful to find out that in spite of my atrial fibrillation, my heart is otherwise healthy, I have a new life goal, which isn’t entirely under my control: to never have another MRI.

Have you had an MRI? How did the experience go for you? How did you manage any anxiety you may have had?

Windows: The birds and squirrels know that change is upon us and are busy consuming and collecting food. Our large dogwood tree bloomed spectacularly this spring and the result is now being appreciated by the creatures as they feast upon the seedpods. The squirrels, robins, and flickers are exuberant eaters, scattering the chaff all over the deck and brick walkway.

AUGUST, A MONTH TO TAKE A BREATH?

September 4, 2024 / Laura Rink / 9 Comments

If July was all about travel and community, from my MFA residency in Tacoma, WA to my family reunion in southern Oregon, August is all about staying home and walking in the forest. Even if that is not exactly how the month has gone.

While I did walk in the forest this month—we had a few visits from a Great Horned Owl—the past four weeks contained much more activity than merely idle strolls. The days filled with guests, a mural festival, a brews cruise, concerts, and caring for my mother as she recovers from knee surgery. I also got back to work on my Armenian family manuscript.

JULY, A MONTH OF REUNIONS

August 7, 2024 / Laura Rink / 3 Comments

Last month, I mentioned Vivian Gornick’s craft book, The Situation and the Story, and this month my focus on craft continued with my return to the Rainier Writing Workshop (RWW), the low-res MFA program I graduated from in 2021. During the ten-day residency, I attended three grad presentations, six classes, and eight morning talks on subjects ranging from Lavish Syntax by Rick Barot to The Vulnerability of Bliss by Scott Nadelson. RWW also celebrated the program’s twenty-year anniversary with a reading from the newly-released RWW anthology, The Next Draft: Inspiring Craft Talks from the Rainier Writing Workshop, edited by Brenda Miller. With this book, you too can experience the nirvana that is RWW’s morning talks! Available from the publisher, Bellingham’s independent bookstore Village Books, and Amazon.

This month I also returned to Indian Mary Campground on the Rogue River in Oregon where my extended maternal family has gathered for over forty years. About a hundred people camped, river rafted, and played a variety of card games and lots of corn hole, competed in a disc golf tournament, played bingo, and participated in a sing-along. I’m grateful to have a loving family I enjoy spending time with, especially outdoors!

JUNE, A MONTH OF GLOOM AND BLOOM

June 24, 2024 / Laura Rink / 10 Comments

I’ve been mentioning flowers in almost every blog this year, not just in the Windows section but in the opening paragraphs. Bits of color holding my attention, lightening my mood, and lifting my energy. June is no different—purple and white lupine, wild daisies, yellow buttercup. June has been alternating between sunny summery weather and dark gray rainy days. Tee shirt or shirt, fleece, and vest. Flip flops or wool socks and boots. But this is not a surprise; this is the nature of June in the Pacific Northwest.

Last month I wrote about a health issue, AFib, which took me by surprise. After having a sleep study confirm I have a moderate case of sleep apnea, the beginning of this month I started using a CPAP machine, and for the last seventeen days I’ve had no episodes of AFib. Seems a bit too easy. Well it’s not that easy—I’m still getting used to wearing the lovely nasal mask which can disrupt my sleep while also helping me sleep better. The no-AFib episodes is a big motivator to keep at it.

MAY, A MONTH OF FLOWERS

May 29, 2024 / Laura Rink / 13 Comments

April’s bounty, and showers, continue with this month’s collection of blossoms: pink columbine, purple rhododendron, red salvia, sweet woodruff, and the sweet perfume of lilacs and lilies of the valley . . . to name a few.

This month also marks a year since I began blogging again. Writing can be a lonely occupation, so thank you for following along with my writing journey, responding to my assorted wonderings, and gazing out my windows with me at the beauty that resides there. Your comments, suggestions, and questions have made me feel in community with each one of you. I look forward to continuing these conversations. (If you don’t already, please consider subscribing to my blog. Thanks!)

In addition, it’s been a year of tending to my health, including physical therapy and mental health therapy, and discovering I have a heart condition, atrial fibrillation, commonly referred to as AFib. Remember how tired I was in December? Part of being tired was three months of heart problems that I kept attributing to other things: anxiety, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and dehydration. I have a cardiologist now, and medication, and some ongoing issues we’re still figuring out.

APRIL, A MONTH WITH TWO ANNIVERSARIES

April 24, 2024 / Laura Rink / 9 Comments

April showers bring May flowers, so the saying goes. In other words, endure April for the reward of May. Yet April offers its own bounty: cherry blossoms, swaths of tulips, and the unfurling of maple leaves, to name a few. April also brings those showers, tree pollen, and temperatures often more like winter than spring. April is an energetic month.

Work: I’m drawn to quotes that reframe the challenges of writing and alter my mindset in an expansive and helpful way. For example, here is a recent newsletter quote from James Clear, author of Atomic Habits:

“If you feel resistance before you begin, it’s usually procrastination and you need to get started.

If you feel resistance after you begin, it’s usually feedback and you need to make adjustments.”

These days I do sit down and get started, because I’m eager to write this book about my Armenian family, to watch the shape emerge, morph, fall flat, and rise again. But it’s taken me a while to implement the second part of the quote. I’ll stare at paragraphs that aren’t working, as if time alone will somehow solve the problem. I’ll make line level edits as if tiny alterations can fix larger issues. (Sometimes they can.) But now I’ve realized a larger adjustment is often what is needed.

March, A Month To Spring Forward, Still

March 27, 2024 / Laura Rink / 2 Comments

The harbingers of spring continue this month, with azaleas, daffodils, and forsythia in full bloom, and maples, alders, and dogwood trees beginning to bud out. We have a mallard couple visiting our pond and a blush of robins spreads over the front field bobbing for worms.

Work: This month I’m poring over a ship manifest & port of arrival form, carbon copies of one great-aunt’s letters from the 1930s, and research on Battle Creek College, Michigan and the Montefiori Hospital in the Bronx, NYC. All that to help me reconstruct the story of how another great-aunt, Silvia (Sirvart) Haigazn, came to America in 1928, after surviving the Armenian Genocide, and subsequently established a new life for herself here. My struggles with this particular section are threefold.

FEBRUARY, A MONTH OF HARBINGERS

February 28, 2024 / Laura Rink / 7 Comments

If last month winter was on my mind (winter projects, wintering, snow), the month of February has me noticing the harbingers of spring (daffodil buds, the morning bird chorus, the emergence of Pacific banana slugs), even if the temperatures are still on the chilly side.

Work: I spent ten days with my husband in Mexico earlier this month and made the decision to not bring my computer, or work on my manuscript, even though the writing and revising were going well, even though a part of me would have been happy to stay home and keep working. I wanted to be more present on this trip, and avoid being distracted by “I could be writing!” Of course I brought a notebook and jotted journal-type entries: what we did—snorkeling and kayaking, the creatures we saw—pufferfish and pelicans, the few Spanish words I was learning—cielo azul and lo siento.

I did read a book, Priscilla Long’s Dancing with the Muse in Old Age and pondered, in my notebook, the questions at the end of each chapter. I turned 59 this month and it was helpful to read of creatives in their 70s, 80s, and 90s still doing their art, however that art had, or hadn’t, changed in the winter of their lives.

JANUARY, A MONTH TOO SHORT AND TOO LONG

January 24, 2024 / Laura Rink / 7 Comments

January bears the burden of high expectations: A New Year! Resolutions! Winter projects! If last month I was tired, this month, the winter holidays behind me now, I felt ready to be productive—I will get so much done this month! And yet this month has flown by—is it really the 24^th already?—and I have not gotten so much done. The too-long part of January isn’t an abundance of time for projects, but the endless dark and cold days. In Bellingham, we experienced negative temperatures for the first time in the twenty-six years we have lived here. I’m not a fan. Though comparatively it was interesting to experience twenty-three degrees as a comfortable temperature.

Work: In 2022, I set a goal to have my Armenian family manuscript completed and of publishable quality by my sixtieth birthday in February 2025. That goal felt reasonable and doable then. I set many intermediate goals. I moved those goalposts a few times. I have made progress but not as much as I’d hoped. Hence the high expectations for this January. And now I’m here, with only thirteen months left until I turn sixty. I’m not moving the goalposts this time, but I have altered the goal: a complete draft of decent quality, probably not ready for publication but ready for an editor, a fresh set of discerning eyes. To that end, I hope January, and February, continue to provide the perfect weather—dark, damp, and cold—to stay inside and write.

Do you set short- and long-term goals for your various projects? Any tips for helping to meet those goals? How do you feel about moving the goalposts or altering the goal itself?

WORK, AND WALKING AWAY

December 20, 2023 / Laura Rink / 10 Comments

I restarted my blog in May and with December’s blog, I’ve met my goal of blogging at least once a month. I almost didn’t reach that goal. I’m tired and considered not blogging this month. I’m tired and considered just posting a picture captioned with Happy Holidays! But that didn’t feel right, or good.

I’m tired. And I wanted to write a blog this month.

I’m tired because of the low light this time of year, because I don’t get outside and exercise enough, because I don’t often sleep well. I’m tired because the state of our planet and our humanity is exhausting.

I wanted to write a blog this month, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

WORK ALWAYS

November 15, 2023 / Laura Rink / 4 Comments

September’s blog was all windows, October’s wonder, so it follows that this month’s will be about the work, the ongoing writer’s work. The fulfilling and frustrating act of creating art. Though, as I seek more equanimity in all aspects of my life, my mindset regarding this work has been evolving. Less high-highs and low-lows, more acceptance of process, as in the work won’t always go smoothly and that’s okay.

Where I am in the drafting process of my Armenian family book: The manuscript is currently about 50,000 words, 177 pages. My goal is around 80,000 words. Much of the manuscript isn’t fleshed out or fully developed. I have several other Word docs, totaling around 20,000 words, with material waiting to be incorporated into the manuscript. I’m trying to establish, again and again as the story evolves, a solid spine around which to build the body of the book. I have to know what kind of story I’m constructing in order to know what belongs in this book, and as that story keeps shifting, so does what remains, what must be added, and what is deleted. I’ve probably written 80,000 words a few times over in my search for this story, which is, at least for me, a necessary part of the process in creating this book.

How would you describe where you are with your current creative project?

Wonder, All The Time

October 25, 2023 / Laura Rink / 9 Comments

Wonder When We’ll Give Peace A Chance

Ukraine and Russia.

Israel and Palestine.

Armenia & Artsakh and Azerbaijan & Turkey.

Sudan, Syria, Afghanistan, . . . United States.

How to replace hate with empathy?

How to halt bombs and advancing armies by other than the same?

How to transform greed into generosity, or at least moderation?

I wonder.

Windows, All The Way Around

September 28, 2023 / Laura Rink / 3 Comments

September brought two local end-of-summer camping trips and while my writing work continued albeit at a much slower pace and there was much to wonder, this blog is all about what was outside the windows of the trailer, plus a welcome-home view.

Kayak Point: A new campground for us in a forest on a bluff overlooking the Salish Sea. Just down the road from the campground is a disc golf resort and we had two days of throwing fun. I highly recommend the putting course for all levels of disc golfers. Besides being free, the par-two course has water features which add ambience and an occasional disc bath. Back at camp, we hiked a short steep trail down to the beach, where the salmon were jumping, continuously. I laughed at the joyous sight of the frolicking fish, while a local fisherman lamented that he’d have better luck shoving an empty boat out amid all that jumping than he was having fishing from shore. I attributed the salmon jumping to all their energy surging them toward their spawning grounds, perhaps in the nearby Stillaguamish River. A quick internet search added two additional reasons. According to Tlingit culture, the jumping is to better see their surroundings, a geographical orientation. The jumping may also be to dislodge sea lice. Great, now I know that such a creature as sea lice exists.

Forest View

Water View

Work, Wonder, and Windows

August 30, 2023 / Laura Rink / 10 Comments

Work: Have you heard the term micro prose? I recently took a class from Darien Hsu Gee, a fellow Rainier Writing Workshop alum, in which she illuminated the benefits of writing micro prose: pieces of 300 words or less. She is passionate about this form, and offered much practical advice and inspiration. The writing process she outlined included writing a first draft in ten minutes and then revising in two ten-minute sessions. The short timeframes makes this a flexible and doable practice. For me, this form will be a way to get difficult material down on the page in short bursts. For more information on micro prose, and free prompts, visit Darien’s website Writer-ish.com.

Tech update: On my website, the “subscribe to blog via email” is now available on mobile devices. After the blog post, scroll past the comment section, and at the very bottom is a place to put in your email and subscribe to my blog. Please let me know if that is not the case. I’m pleased that I figured this out on my own, though not thrilled at the number of hours I spent on it when I just needed to add a widget, which was obvious in hindsight and took mere minutes.

Work, Wonder, and Windows

July 26, 2023 / Laura Rink / 6 Comments

Work: Traveling along the Oregon coast for two weeks this month took me out of my usual writing and exercise routines. (For more on the latter, check out this blog post.) Most mornings, I had to choose whether to write or exercise. Road trips require more sitting, so I often picked moving my body over writing. Once at my family reunion, being with my extended family was the priority. Little progress was made on my book during these two weeks and that was okay.

How do you balance the immobility of writing and moving your body? Do you try to write on vacation? Do you purposefully take writing breaks?

Yaquina Head Lighthouse

Work, Wonder, and Windows

June 14, 2023 / Laura Rink / 4 Comments

June 2023

Welcome to my blog. First time here? Check out last month’s blog for info on my intentions for this space.

Work: I’ve started on the next draft of my book, my untitled Armenian family memoir. The last draft I refused to begin with page one—I was sick of page one. I was sick of the beginning that might not even be the beginning, in the end. I picked a pivotal section on page 43 and sailed forth from there. Last week I landed on page 191 with new insights for global revisions, my main goal for that draft. I’ve returned to the beginning, and those new insights are helping me see what belongs here and what decidedly does not, and the fate of the rest of the beginning is uncertain at this point. As a person, I prefer the familiar, the known, the certain. As a writer, I’ve found the only way forward, for me, is to make peace with losing sight of the shore and trust that new lands will appear, eventually, on the horizon.

A helpful resource to take along on the drafting journey: Seven Drafts by Allison K Williams.

How do you tackle your drafts? Always from the beginning? Or do you jump around?

Work, Wonder, and Windows

May 24, 2023 / Laura Rink / 17 Comments

May 2023

One of my motivations to write is connecting with others, and that connection can’t begin until the work goes out into the world. As I am currently writing a book, it’s a long slog before that engagement can begin. So I’ve decided to reboot, revive, and recommit to my blog.

This blog will be loosely organized in three categories: Work, Wonder, and Windows. What I am up to with my writing; wonderings inspired by books, podcasts, articles, essays, anything really; and what I’m seeing out my window on my borrowed piece of the planet between the Salish Sea and the Cascade Mountains.

Work: I’m expanding my MFA creative nonfiction thesis into a book-length work about my relationships with my Armenian grandmother and her two sisters, and the silence surrounding their life in Turkey and how they survived the Armenian Genocide. I’ve published two essays related to this work: “Geraniums” at Complete Sentence and “Tante Silvia’s Flinch Cards” at The Keepthings.

LOOK WITH YOUR EYES

April 13, 2020 / Laura Rink / 8 Comments

Look with your eyes, not your hands

My mother said in gift shops, antique stores, the five and dime

Now, in my mask and gloves, I peer at

Avocados and apples, grapefruit and lemons

Using my eyes to discern

Firmness, ripeness, compatibility

Wondering if the underside of the apple holds a bruise,

If the grapefruit will be more rind than flesh

Touching is a commitment—

You are now mine, for better or for worse

Category: Daily Life (Page 1 of 2)

NOVEMBER, A MONTH TO SWIM IN THE SEA

OCTOBER, A MONTH WHEN I DO THINGS FOR MY FUTURE SELF

SEPTEMBER, A MONTH OF CHANGES

AUGUST, A MONTH TO TAKE A BREATH?

JULY, A MONTH OF REUNIONS

JUNE, A MONTH OF GLOOM AND BLOOM

MAY, A MONTH OF FLOWERS

APRIL, A MONTH WITH TWO ANNIVERSARIES

March, A Month To Spring Forward, Still

FEBRUARY, A MONTH OF HARBINGERS

JANUARY, A MONTH TOO SHORT AND TOO LONG

WORK, AND WALKING AWAY

WORK ALWAYS

Wonder, All The Time

Windows, All The Way Around

Work, Wonder, and Windows

Work, Wonder, and Windows

Work, Wonder, and Windows

Work, Wonder, and Windows

LOOK WITH YOUR EYES

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