As someone who never was afforded the innocence that theoretically childhood is supposed to provide (instead, I got Quakers who never looked away from the complications of violence, racism, and capitalism outside our house, while resolutely ignoring the complications of those things inside our house. Moral courage escapes even Quakers sometimes.) I would argue that fiction is one of the only reliable ways to survive this often painful world. We need beauty. We need rest. We need magic and fantasy and the miracle of being able to climb inside someone else's head and heart for a while and feel not quite so isolated in our troubles.
The best fiction, and I would include L'Engle in that category for sure, affords us a deep sense of connection to the human family, which is the antidote to despair. Yes, get that book on climate change. Yes, learn more about Afghanistan and Haiti and all the places that real people are suffering. But don't ever feel guilty about using fiction to survive. It is one of the only things that allowed me to survive my childhood without falling straight off the end of the world, and I am so thankful to be alive now, even in a world as heartbreaking as this one.
No, I'm not getting tired of your words. I can't even imagine it. I always find such an important sense of recognition and fierce solace in your words.
I sent your piece to at least three people--just yesterday. One is a dear friend whose husband, also a dear friend, is at the end of life. With three children, they are holding joy and sadness amidst the unpredictability of this illness and the world at large. I needed to read this but she did even more. Thank you for it.
How I needed this today as our small community fights vaccination and masking for children and my elderly friend attends a superspreader event and then comes to my home maskless and friends struggle with breakthrough Covid Delta. It's too much. And balance seems like a utopian dream. I love the Chodron quote, her book sits on my little table next to me. Thank you for your exquisite timing sensibility for writing the wisdom I seem to be hungry for. Bless bless. 💕
As someone who never was afforded the innocence that theoretically childhood is supposed to provide (instead, I got Quakers who never looked away from the complications of violence, racism, and capitalism outside our house, while resolutely ignoring the complications of those things inside our house. Moral courage escapes even Quakers sometimes.) I would argue that fiction is one of the only reliable ways to survive this often painful world. We need beauty. We need rest. We need magic and fantasy and the miracle of being able to climb inside someone else's head and heart for a while and feel not quite so isolated in our troubles.
The best fiction, and I would include L'Engle in that category for sure, affords us a deep sense of connection to the human family, which is the antidote to despair. Yes, get that book on climate change. Yes, learn more about Afghanistan and Haiti and all the places that real people are suffering. But don't ever feel guilty about using fiction to survive. It is one of the only things that allowed me to survive my childhood without falling straight off the end of the world, and I am so thankful to be alive now, even in a world as heartbreaking as this one.
No, I'm not getting tired of your words. I can't even imagine it. I always find such an important sense of recognition and fierce solace in your words.
I sent your piece to at least three people--just yesterday. One is a dear friend whose husband, also a dear friend, is at the end of life. With three children, they are holding joy and sadness amidst the unpredictability of this illness and the world at large. I needed to read this but she did even more. Thank you for it.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I really needed to hear/read this today.
I am indeed Aunt Beast. And maybe I'm old school, but David Remnick! Holy bananas.
How I needed this today as our small community fights vaccination and masking for children and my elderly friend attends a superspreader event and then comes to my home maskless and friends struggle with breakthrough Covid Delta. It's too much. And balance seems like a utopian dream. I love the Chodron quote, her book sits on my little table next to me. Thank you for your exquisite timing sensibility for writing the wisdom I seem to be hungry for. Bless bless. 💕