I absolutely love Beyond with Jane Ratcliffe. The interviews. The community. The writing advice. I jumped at the opportunity when I saw the invitation to participate in Project Love — an 11-day experience in which the Beyond community responds to the Beyond Questionnaire (the questionnaire completed by writers and others routinely published on Beyond). The community shared their responses daily in the Beyond chat. I read the thread daily and gathered my thoughts. The timeliness of Project Love happening during Valentine’s week is not lost on me. It feels right to share love in community right now. 

As you read my responses, think of your own answers. I guarantee you will be surprised by what emerges when you sit and reflect. I experienced all the emotions as I found the words — joy, sadness, hope, pain, comfort, fear. Thinking and writing require excavating memories, contemplating the future, tearing down walls, finding light in darkness, and believing (if only for a minute) that we are not alone in our questions. Somehow, not being alone in our questions is a softer, safer, more loving place.

In Love,

Katie

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Day 1 — What are you reading now?

I am reading — mainly listening to, but I cut myself slack for counting listening — several books right now. I am reading Miranda July’s All Fours, Ross Gay’s Book of Delights, Kaitlin Curtis’ Living Resistance, and Barbara Brown Taylor’s Learning to Walk in the Dark. I am also reading tons of essays and interviews on Substack. (Writing this has encouraged me to keep track of the essays and interviews I love as I love them.)

Day 2 — What are your beloved books from your childhood?

I had a bookshelf/library in my bedroom my entire childhood. I am the daughter of an English/Reading teacher. She read to me most nights, and I eventually received an English major and English teaching credential before completing my PhD. I am convinced all that started because I was reading (and being read to) in my youth. I remember reading and re-reading a series called Sweet Pickles, which is like Sesame Street in picture book form. I read volumes of childhood poetry — which I would memorize and recite to anyone who would listen. When I got to chapter books, I read the Trixie Beldin series, every Judy Bloom I could get my hands on (even the ones that weren’t all that popular), Roald Dahl, Beverly Clearly, years of Scholastic book choices, and all the books in my local library’s annual summer book club.

Day 3 — What book that helped you get through a rough time?

I am reading and writing through this time in which we are living (which feels like the roughest I have known) by reading Ross Gay’s Book of Delights, writing about a daily delight as part of a writing course, Writing in the Dark with Jeannine Ouellette , and sharing my delights in the writing community. Both the act of writing my delight and reading the delights of others have strengthened my delight muscles at this very undelightful, cruel, and scary time. Past authors for rough times include — Pema Chodron, Parker Palmer, Kate Bowler, Ann Lamott, Cheryl Strayed, Suleika Jaouad, Katherine May, and Nadia Bolz-Weber.

Day 4 — What article of clothing makes me feel most like me?

I bought a favorite wool sweater in Ireland this summer in a small shop in Doolin where we saw the Cliffs of Moher. It is soft and comfy and warm. It is beautiful and hand-crafted. It is adventure and possibility. The zipper’s pull is a Celtic cross, reminding me that I am love. It makes me feel the most like me because it is deep green, the color of trees and life. It makes me feel the most like me because it reminds me that I can speak magic into being.

Day 5 — Best Piece of Wisdom

I find wisdom in poetry. Lately, I have been leaning into this thought — “Why write love poetry in a burning world? To train myself, in the midst of a burning world, to offer poems of love to a burning world.” — Katie Farris. There is something hopeful in poems of love — a belief in connection, goodness, grace, beauty, and redemption. Love poems express a joyful desire to sing from the mountaintops. There is hope in singing from mountaintops. There is something fierce — and I am talking about the kind of fierce that is soft and determined and creative and relentless — in poems of love. Fierce means not silent. Fierce means what we know in our bones. Fierce means love as a verb. I am floored by the notion that I may train myself to offer poems of love. I am a lifelong believer in learning. I also believe that practice is sacred. Training myself to write poems of love and offer poems of love to the world is the heart of what I must always do.

Day 6 — Special Relationship with an Animal

There is something so beautiful about being an animal’s person. I am my cat, Tater’s, person. I have been a cat’s person before. Being a cat’s person, and I suspect it is like this with dogs, too, but I have not lived with dogs as an adult, is like falling in love with a shadow of our best self. Being Tater’s person reminds me that I learn and receive far more from her than I ever teach or give to her. We have built our bond over her 14-year life. She follows me up to bed and sleeps by my side. She sits by my computer while I work and chases my fingers while I type. She does not pay much attention to anyone other than me, except when they have salmon. Being the absolute favorite of another living being reinforces our interdependence, quiets a noisy and distracted world, and exemplifies love in action.

Day 7 — One thing I am happy worked out differently than I expected

I hate expectations. I am not cynical. I simply believe cynicism is uninspired, and I have mostly chosen inspiration rather than expectation. I seek to understand failure’s honesty and maintain a stand-up-and-brush-the-dust-off-my-ass-when-I-fall-down attitude. My Turner syndrome diagnosis at age 15 taught me to challenge expectations. The diagnosis told me not to expect to live much beyond 35. I am 53. The diagnosis predicted cognitive, physical, and social difficulty. I have earned a Ph.D., written a book, and completed a marathon. The diagnosis and subsequent medical attention confirmed infertility. I have come to understand motherhood and mothering — and the expectation of motherhood and mothering — as the gentle, compassionate, and loving relationship we are all called to have with ourselves, others, and our world. My diagnosis taught me to understand expectations carefully. Let me explain. Our thoughts are powerful. We conjure magic every day. In that way, we chose our expectations. We are asked to be awake to experience when things work out differently than expected. Being awake to experience means seeing open and closed doors, beauty and sorrow, and life’s exquisite impermanence.

Day 8 — Favorite way your body expresses itself

Tears. Tears. Tears. I cry a lot. I cry for a million reasons. Happy tears. Sad tears. Scared tears. Inspired tears. Tears of connection. Tears of isolation. Tears of solidarity. Tears of struggle. I am thankful for tears like I am thankful for cheese and bread and chocolate. I am thankful for tears like I am thankful for home and candles and words. I am thankful for tears like I am thankful for lace and morning and breath.

Day 9 — What are your hopes for yourself

I hope to stay soft in hard times. I hope to become better at forgiving, which means I am more aware of the grace I receive and extend that grace to others, even and especially those who hurt me and our world. I hope to quiet the noise and pay attention. I hope to create more than I destroy. I hope to use my days wisely and joyfully. I hope to be gentle and loving. I hope to be healthy.

Day 10 — A kindness that changed your life

I immediately think of the big things like my mentors’ guidance, my parents’ example, and my doctors’ diligence. My life is radically better because of their kindness. If I pause, zoom in, and sing the praise of a single kindness that changed my life, it would be a few months ago in my church. It was the Sunday after the election, and I was in complete despair. There were many people in the church that day in despair. Being together at that moment was a profound act of kindness. We were carrying the weight together. We were called forward to light candles at one point in the service. Candles had been placed in a large stand that became a wall of light as each person lit a candle and passed their light to the next person. Person by person, light by light, heart by heart, kindness shone. Fear eased as kindness shone. Isolation eased as kindness shone. Cruelty eased as kindness shone. Since that service, it has felt like kindness is losing. I hold onto that wall of light we built and continue to build. My life changed in that moment. That moment took me beyond sadness and despair. That moment connected me with others. That moment taught me that we must share our light. That moment reminded me of what happens when we light our world together in kindness and love.

Day 11 — What is your guiding force?

Recently, I have heard from all directions, we were made for this time. Right now, we are asked to understand and act. Right now, we are asked to have and hold. Right now, we are asked to love one another. My guiding force looks like that. My guiding force is the work I must do. My guiding force means surrounding myself with good people. My guiding force is free of noise and distraction because it knows the steps to walk. My guiding force is not scared and angry because it believes in a power beyond myself.

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