I'm thankful for the years of learning and the Two Writing Teachers community. Because of you, I found my voice and learned my words matter.
Some of my dearest friends were met through slicing. Slicers are a critical piece of my history as a writer.These words resonate with me. They are truths Ruth has given me. They are her truths, but she allows me--invites me, even--to own these truths for myself. That is the very special thing about Ruth Ayres. She lives the life of a giver. This March she is giving to the slice of life community by posting vintage slices as inspiration and encouragement.
I am not one to pass on a gift, so I am taking Ruth's inspiration and encouragement as fuel for my own writing kick start. I spent some time digging through vintage slices of my own. The experience was another example of the universe providing just what I needed, at just the right moment. Immersing myself in words I crafted was like reaching for the hand of an old, trusted friend. It was like holding up a mirror expecting to see a reflection, but viewing in it instead an x-ray straight into the core of who I am.
I was reminded of Ruth's recent post about why she blogs--about how blogging allows her to stay centered and authentic, which transfers to and supports all other writing she does. By revisiting some vintage slices of my own, I am able to reconnect with my most authentic self. I can already feel the ignition of a flame burning within me. This March, I am joining Ruth in selecting vintage slices of my own to post. My purpose is most definitely different than her determination to give, but it suits where I am as a writer. Like Ruth's, my purpose is authentic.
I will center myself, fuel myself as a writer by posting my own vintage slices throughout March. I will honor the Slice of Life community that has helped me find my voice and learn that my words matter.
Today, I will begin with my first blog post ever: March 1, 2010 (it was no surprise to find in my return to this slice that Ruth had commented)
Monday, March 1, 2010
One of my students wrote his persuasive letter to me, convincing me to play Modern Warfare 2.
The next day in class I overheard him telling his friend, “Chicks can’t play Modern Warfare.”
So, naturally I interjected, “Hey, you told me to play it and I’m a chick.” A weak argument, I know, but the point was to call him out on his sexist statement. In the moment I thought it would be most effective if I pointed out his hypocrisy.
Little did I know, he was not being hypocritical, “You’re not a chick; you’re a woman.”
There you have it: I am old.
If it’s true and I really have reached the threshold between youth and adulthood, I really need to start doing something with my life.
And so, this blog begins with the hope that the act of challenging myself to take the time to make meaning of my world will cause me to breathe more deeply, to open my eyes wider, to talk less and listen more, to be in the moment—each moment of my days, to spend less time on the filler and more time on the good stuff, to live with intention.