And then you can go back to your licking your peach juice and changing worlds with your words
“Life goes on / full of silence and clamor / in the grey cities / in the far bourgs / in the white cities by the sea / where I go on / writing my life / in neither blood nor wine.
—-From Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s “At Sea,” courtesy of my good friend.
Some days I wonder if you know that I’m still here, listening. I’m reading your words. I’m watching you continue to churn this bloggy butter and I’m tasting it (thick, rich, unexpectedly sweet). Please don’t mistake the quiet in this place for apathy, or think that I don’t relish its sticky taste anymore. I do. Right now it just feels really good to sit back and observe, to save the hard work and grittiest words for other notebooks, other rooms, other phone calls.
Here’s the ironic thing–I value the privilege of writing publicly today more than ever before, even as I draw further inward myself, pull my attic hatch mouth closed behind me and burrow up into my head. I still hold tightly to your words, the braver the better, even as I choose to nod along silently. I’m watching the way you lift each other up and I am nodding, nodding, nodding. Maybe it was my turn to talk for a while back then, and maybe today it’s just my turn to listen, who knows. This quiet isn’t angsty or dangerous like before, and it’s not even self-protective–it’s just still. Steady, open, and good. My whole life I’ve been straddling this teeter totter, feverishly pressing my feet back and forth between each end seeking balance, never really getting that if I just held still and tightened my center, it would come. Steady footing. Today, I get it.
Even better, a few days from now I’ll have the opportunity to hold your hand in mine, many of you, and hear you own your own words–and, unlike in the past, I just don’t feel anxious. I’m painfully aware what a fragile, gorgeous opportunity it is to pack up my family and show them New York City, really take it in, with them, with you. Lord, that’s a gift. I never used to see these sorts of gifts before, not really, not through the fog of anxiety or stress or fear. I kicked so many pretty packages for so many years as I stumbled along, well-intentioned, but unseeing.
Some of you have asked if this trip will be hard for me, and I don’t know how to make you understand that it won’t. I have a new love for experience, a joy for the day, that I just didn’t have before. I am no longer afraid to speak up when it counts. I finally found that greener grass and then the fence up and disappeared, the lushness spread and bled all around me further than I can see. I am exactly where I was always meant to be. I’m lying down making lawn angels, squinting up into the sun. (And if I need a reminder? There’s always the Serenity Suite.)
But some mornings, like this quiet summer Saturday while you’re in here looking for connection or out there slip-and-sliding with your kids or anywhere at all licking the sticky juice of white peaches from your forearms, I want to call your name. I want to lie my head in your lap and close my eyes against the stroke of your hand on my hair, just be out here in this space with you. Remember what it feels like to throw words like jacks with no rulebook, no deadline, no older kid standing behind me, arms crossed. To just let loose these words, a handful at a time, and watch you watch them roll. Fall where they may, for once.
This world pitches and rolls, cycles through its seasons, and I’m so grateful for its tilt, right now, today. Thank you for keeping it turning, for still being out there, for still hearing when I call out, for that drum-beat reverberation, that cosmic nod of recognition, for your lap, for your hand, for here, for now.
Bennie says:
I’m envious of your impending trip. One day, my friend. One day. Have a wonderful time and I look forward to hearing all of the great stories you will bring back.
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July 31st, 2010 at 12:26 pm
Maria says:
Even when you’re not around that much, you make me feel so very much like this is a safe place. Like I’m in the right place. Your wisdom, your fears. Thanks for being you, M.
This year I will find you and hug you like crazy.
Love.
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July 31st, 2010 at 12:27 pm
Tracie says:
It is a beautiful thing to find that place of center, of balance, of just being. I have caught fleeting glimpses of it in the past….once or twice I have found it and sat with it, still, quiet, untouched by the chaos around me, breathing in peace.
Recognizing when it is your time to speak, to write, to be a voice, and when it is time to sit back and be an observer, a silent reader, a life liver–that is a new level of courage and understanding to reach. To sit back without guilt or anxiety and embrace that peace.
Have a wonderful time on your trip. One day I hope to make it up there myself.
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July 31st, 2010 at 12:39 pm
Jett says:
Okay, I resigned myself to not going to BlogHer a few months ago when Sam announced his decision. I’ve not really been sad I’m not going, not once.
Until now. Boo that all those other people get to squish your face and I don’t. Booooo on that.
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July 31st, 2010 at 12:44 pm
Brandi says:
You and your words are so beautiful. I hope you have an amazing trip!
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July 31st, 2010 at 2:20 pm
Elizabeth @claritychaos says:
As always, you write with such beautiful imagery, Maggie. (I love the attic and its hatch.)
Have fun.
xo
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July 31st, 2010 at 2:24 pm
melissa says:
i will see YOU in NYC!!
xo
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July 31st, 2010 at 3:01 pm
Ann says:
Why is it so hard to remember that we are exactly where we are supposed to be?
You are enjoying watching people spin words, and I am sitting here in awe watching you–admiring you–be so still and centered and grateful.
I’d call you my rock, and I have certain red heart-shaped one in mind
Thank you.
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July 31st, 2010 at 3:13 pm
vodkamom says:
I can’t wait to see you and chat. I hope we can have a cup of coffee and your strength and goodness will ooze all over me.
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July 31st, 2010 at 3:23 pm
Jurgen Nation says:
I feel physical pain that I’m not going to be able to meet you. Regardless, consider yourself hugged, and you leg humped.
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July 31st, 2010 at 3:58 pm
anymommy says:
I’m so glad you are in this lovely place. And I’m SO looking forward to seeing you.
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July 31st, 2010 at 5:05 pm
Issa says:
I love this Maggie. Truly. Write when want too. Just know, were all here waiting for you. Can’t wait to meet you.
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July 31st, 2010 at 6:09 pm
Domestic Extraordinaire says:
I can’t wait to hold your hand. To give you a hug and to thank you for helping me to climb out of the box I had put myself in so many years ago.
You are simply amazing and I am so excited that I will be able to call you friend!
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July 31st, 2010 at 6:36 pm
Neil says:
I cannot wait to see you again, my friend. But do I have to go to your session? I think Padma from Top Chef is going to be there at the same time.
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maggie, dammit Reply:
August 1st, 2010 at 9:57 am
Yes.
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July 31st, 2010 at 7:56 pm
Amanda says:
That you used “hold” for my name means more than you know. Or may be you do, my dear, dear Maggie. Maybe you already do.
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July 31st, 2010 at 8:03 pm
Chris says:
I am so happy for you. Still is such a lovely place to be. NYC is not bad, either. I hope you have a wonderful experience.
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August 1st, 2010 at 6:31 am
Velma says:
You sound so good. I can’t tell you how blissed out I get when I read your beautiful words. Oh, wait! Yes, I *can* tell you – see you in NYC!
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August 1st, 2010 at 7:15 am
amber says:
Mmmm. Stillness. That sounds nice. I think I may read this post a few more times to experience it vicariously…
I’ll be in NYC. So don’t be surprised if some strange red-headed slightly crazy looking woman comes up and hugs you. That’ll be me. Because you’ve helped me tremendously with your words this year.
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August 1st, 2010 at 7:20 am
heidi says:
Hope you have a great, great time. Now that I’m getting to know a few bloggers out there I really wish I could go. And it’s NYC….
I like how you’re standing inside of yourself and finding peace and contentment there. That’s how I see you in this post. I’m happy for you, Maggie.
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August 1st, 2010 at 9:52 am
Miss Britt says:
Every opportunity to hug you is a joy. A real, pure joy.
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August 1st, 2010 at 12:25 pm
Deb Rox says:
And those wee gorgeous kick ass girlies and your hunk? Hope I see them a moment too.
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August 1st, 2010 at 1:59 pm
magpie says:
Looking forward to seeing you, friend.
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August 1st, 2010 at 2:04 pm
Connie says:
How do you write so beautifully?
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August 1st, 2010 at 7:22 pm
schmutzie says:
Soon!
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August 1st, 2010 at 8:16 pm
Denise says:
Delurking to say that I am still here, still loving the words you cast in this space, and especially still loving your beautiful spirit you consistently and generously share in this space. Enjoy NYC with your family.
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August 1st, 2010 at 8:33 pm
Erika says:
Argh. Seeing who’s going makes me sad that I’m not. Maybe next year. Have a blast!
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August 1st, 2010 at 8:49 pm
arizaphale says:
So good to hear you are in such a good place. And so beautifully put.
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August 2nd, 2010 at 3:03 am
Ellen says:
It is sooooo good to read your words and knowto that you are atill ‘out there’ and in a good place. I resonate with empathy to your one-day-at-a-time-beat drum.
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August 2nd, 2010 at 3:28 am
Ellen says:
Please excuse the typos – I’m blushing with shame!
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August 2nd, 2010 at 3:30 am
Becky (Princess Mikkimoto) says:
So so beautiful. Just like you, friend. Have a wonderful time…
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August 2nd, 2010 at 6:22 am
Mojo,NC,USA says:
The links in this post must have taken forever to assemble! I’m impressed!
I wish I could actually be there to see you in NYC, but alas, schedules being what they are, that’s not in the cards. But in a weird turn of events, you’ll actually have the chance to see the actual live version of the piece I submitted to the BlogHer/Kirtsy Art Gala… and I won’t. Strange, yeah?
Quiet and still is a good place to be, sis.
And ohbytheway… Happy Anniversary. Again.
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August 2nd, 2010 at 6:39 am
jodifur says:
Honored to be included on the list of people you are looking forward to meeting. Because I can’t wait to meet you.
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August 2nd, 2010 at 8:21 am
AmyLK says:
Have a wonderful triip!
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August 2nd, 2010 at 8:25 am
muskrat says:
I’ll check again, but I didn’t see my hyperlink, which ensures I will NOT be going to the serenity suite, unless it’s to release several not-so-serene reptiles.
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muskrat Reply:
August 2nd, 2010 at 9:41 am
Oh wait–I’m “better”! Awesome! Now when someone searches for “better” online, they’ll find me.
I’m all better now.
Forget the reptiles.
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August 2nd, 2010 at 9:40 am
kelly says:
I am going to miss your session. I am heartbroken. I have to take Jack to NYU for an autism study. I won’t be in NY until later Friday night. But, I will be at blogher over the weekend. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around you in a huge hug.
[Reply]
August 2nd, 2010 at 9:58 am
NT says:
Holding still and tightening my center – I like the image this brings, in contrast to the other way as you described them. I’m hoping to get there. Enjoy NYC and BlogHer. It sounds like you will, like never before.
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August 3rd, 2010 at 2:24 pm
Cheryl says:
This is the place of peace we all seek ~ the center, the balance.
Enjoy your NYC adventure. Would you give the Uncool one a hug for me?
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August 5th, 2010 at 6:09 am
Elizabeth Barrett says:
I love the imagery of the attic. I have a writing studio that looks and feels like the corner of my grandmother’s old house with a bed built into the rafters and cobwebs in the corners of the window that I refuse to brush away. The words come easily there, which is a gift in a noisy life like mine, and yours, and so many of ours. But sometimes the solitary writer needs to come out into the light and speak with words directly to the audience. That’s what the blogging world is allowing me to do – live out loud. It sounds like your audience was ready to see you in person which must feel wonderful. I hope you enjoyed NYC!
Elizabeth
[Reply]
August 10th, 2010 at 6:27 am
adrienne says:
you know how these things go…
i was voting for a friend on babble, which sent me to the panic room, then ricocheted me onward to mamapop.
after reading your comment there, quite naturally i dropped by to check out your blitzkrieg pop and lock.
this page is better than thick, rich, and unexpectedly sweet, better than dripping peach juice.
until now i thought the ‘safe place’ was a blogger’s myth.
it’s beautiful here. thank you.
[Reply]
August 11th, 2010 at 10:01 pm
Kate says:
Hi Maggie;
This is a beautifully crafted post (nothing surprising BTW). You have such a gift with words.
P.S. I was a BlogHer too and saw you on the street by the side of the Hilton on Saturday early evening after the conference was over. You were chatting with another woman. I was walking with my sister who is also a blogger. I said….”There’s Maggie!”. But, I was too shy to say hello. I read your blog(s). You are inspirational.You make a difference.
Best to you. Hope you enjoyed the conference.
[Reply]
August 12th, 2010 at 6:59 am
Kate says:
I found your site from Sprite’s Keeper. I love it. I’m going to poke around a little bit, but don’t worry I’ll put everything back where I found it!!
[Reply]
August 14th, 2010 at 1:29 pm
Christine LaRocque says:
Sadly this is my first visit to your blog, but happily I made my way here perhaps when I most needed it. I’m having a crises of confidence, and also of wondering whether blogging was what I thought it was. I’m not sure why, except to say there has been stuff. Your words have bolstered me, reminded me of all the good in this world and what is is really about. Thank you!
[Reply]
August 14th, 2010 at 4:38 pm