“So I gave up trying to rewrite the world. And instead I stopped and listened quietly to the silence and in that stillness I heard great beauty.” Jonathan, I feel your liberation in these words, the untangling, unwinding, undoing… the lightness is felt, and no doubt a hard-earned embodiment, and you hold it with such grace. 🙏
Just like you, it all starts with taking out the old family photographs . Lives and memories. Some faces unknown. I guess never introduced. Too late now, lost in the ‘beyond’.
I love of this story. This is my stand out~
“And in my great recollection I remembered the three offspring of love, I remembered Forgiveness, Compassion and Grace. Those three children of love that show us how to forgive and be kind and gracious and tender. And I realised I do not need to rewrite my life. But instead forgive. And embrace. And be gracious. “
🪺🐦⬛
I’ve always been attracted to the word Murmuration from the first day I’d ever heard it said. Seated in a University auditorium at the Banff Mtn. Film Festival. The favorites of the festival, traveling with ‘the best of the best’ around the world. Originating in Alberta , Canada. One of the favorites, The Art of Flying. I watched in awe on the edge of my seat, almost holding my breath ,with long inhales. Starlings doing their dance in a mesmerizing display of an otherworldly art form, combined together in mass , an opus of survival. And here you are, applying the word to the story boards of your life. Now I close my eyes and see my own family’s history. The stature of tales and fables, the moral to the stories. Like the Starlings undulating , expanding and contracting ever changing ,but always returning, massed together, as they move through time and space.
A beautiful use of the word . I will think of this story from now on. When I ‘visit’ my own family tree. Murmuration of all things family. Forever shaping, changing, but always the birth of my story. And I will think of the “ Three children” and smile.
How did I miss this one?
Probably Ranger’s fault ( he was younger then, always getting into something, now it’s only half the time)
Murmuration is a royal word. The sound. The image it creates, the freedom. Chaos but not chaos. It's strangely perfect for the way we tell our stories, the same flowing imagery but also contained, enclosed.
Thanks Wes, I’m glad you recognised that, that’s what I meant in the “substacky talk” at the beginning, that I hope to make the writing recognisable. 👍🏼
Recognizable writing should be our first duty as writers, poets, essayists. That so much writing on Substack is not recognizable nor comprehendible is my main complaint with about 90% of what I read here. Shame because there's plenty of talent here.
I'm a bit nervous of the slippery slope of analysing Substack. I reckon 90% of everything is junk, ice cream flavours and political ideologies and shoe repairers work, you name it and it's mostly awful. Yep, I think you're right, there's a huge amount of writing I just don't relate to, things that just don't satisfy my needs here on Substack.
And then there's some real gems. I've read some things that have inspired me to be a better writer. Honest real stuff. I still think of those prose pieces you've written about your life in carpentry. I love that stuff (and your poetry of course).
Just off the top of my head, @Chloe Hopes's, Death and Birds, @Susie Mawhinney's A Hill And I, @David Knowles Elvers By Moonlight @Fotini Masika's Tomasikaki, there's so many more... I'd love to discover more so if you've got any suggestions then hand 'em over.
But yeah, sometimes I think I'm shouting into an empty cave, writing my heart out over here and everyone else is desperate to read about...well, you know, the same old stuff.
What beautiful writing! True freedom in breaking through the familial mythology to stretch your own wings into your unique murmuration. I salute you sir, the sky is yours.
I DO know what you mean! I get some of my best ideas when I am outside walking and just Being and in one other time/place.
My repeated story...has to do with my dad and a moment in time, told from only his perspective and point of view, and its usually told/shared after he has had more than a few beers, when he becomes sentimental times infinity (because he is usually sentimental anyways). I don't actually remember it happening, but I've heard it so much (my dad is an alcoholic, after all), that it has taken on its own life and feeling, depending on the slurring sentences and how watery his eyes get. But...here's what stands out, for me, at least: it's the same story. The same one story. I am frozen in time in that one moment, forever, for him. He has a hard time reconciling 53-year-old me with 5/6-year-old me, so he chooses, forever, to see me as 5/6-year-old. Mmm...much could be said about that, I guess. Anyway, thanks for your post/share!
PS: your laughter was infectious and sweet, in a weird way. Because it makes you more 'real'. That's a weird thing to say, I know, but not many people are giggling when they do their audio readings, but laughter is very human, you know? It makes us not robots, if you follow me. XO
Exactly. That being frozen in time is such a good point. Like some of these family stories not only lock you in time, but they stop the "story-teller" ever having to pay attention to the current you, strange straitjackets in some ways. That's a bit of an exaggeration but you know what I mean. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences.
Anyway, thanks for mentioning the first bit, Danielle, glad you appreciated that, wasn't sure really if I'll continue with those things or not. So nice, thanks :)
Mmm...that is precisely it! It is a straitjacket. That is not an exaggeration in any way.
Maybe not for him, but it feels that way for me. For him, yep, he doesn't pay attention to the current me, perhaps because it is too scary for him to think about himself getting older. I don't know the real or definite reason and I don't need to, necessarily.
More importantly to me is that I don't like feeling constrained and that is how I feel when I'm around him. It's not like we're in the same city, we're hours and hours apart, so I don't have to be physically in his space often, but I dread when I do. Sorry for rambling. You just have awoken something in me about this particular thing, and I thought you would want to know - isn't that the point of writing? Thank you, Jonathan! For helping me uncover that, it is most helpful!! XO
I guess one of the things I'm trying to say in the piece, is the idea that these stories are not the telling of you, they are just stories that are told by families, for good and for ill, and that realisation is a way of freeing yourself from feeling responsibile somehow. The world, and each of us, are far too complex to capture in memories and oft repeated stories. You're too complex, and I suppose your others are too, right?
I think some of the thing about feeling constrained might be about feeling overly simplified by these stories, so rather than having your true depth and complexity properly described, you recognise the limitations of the "you" in the stories.
Sometimes it feels like a battle between the power of self-fulfilling prophesy and wanting to be truly seen for who we are. That's kind of what I meant about these stories "hammering each of us onto our own unique crucifix."
I suppose the idea of forgiveness, compassion and grace is that it's good to apply those ways of thinking/behaving/etc. to oneself as well as to others. Because it's not your fault that the stories are told the way they are told, and they are not stories of you, but of the family itself, like a structure that holds all of the family, you, your father, everyone else, in place. For me, that helps me to forgive others and to forgive myself too.
Anyway, I hope this doesn't sound preachy or like I'm offering some platitudes or advice. I really have no more idea than the next person. I'm just so honoured that your reading and getting things from my writing, and sharing that with me, Danielle, because it is, as you rightly say, the point of writing :)
Thanks, Jonathan. I want to reassure you that you didn't sound preachy at all. And I did understand the points you were making, I just got laser focused in on the one thing because the fog surrounding it suddenly cleared and I saw it fully.
In the end he is my dad, he's family. You know? There is ample compassion and grace and forgiveness there, because just like any of us, he's figuring out stuff in his way and his time. He is just stuck in that sentimental loop and it's not my job to figure out how to move him beyond that, it's all up to him. All I can take care of is my own self, and I do :-) Have mercy, do I ever!
Again, thanks for your lovely writing, and for the kindness you extended in talking with me. You are very generous to respond! Have a wonderful and blessed day. XO
“So I gave up trying to rewrite the world. And instead I stopped and listened quietly to the silence and in that stillness I heard great beauty.” Jonathan, I feel your liberation in these words, the untangling, unwinding, undoing… the lightness is felt, and no doubt a hard-earned embodiment, and you hold it with such grace. 🙏
The incredible lightness of being? Thanks Kimberly, I really like the untangling, unwinding, undoing image. Beautiful
Just like you, it all starts with taking out the old family photographs . Lives and memories. Some faces unknown. I guess never introduced. Too late now, lost in the ‘beyond’.
I love of this story. This is my stand out~
“And in my great recollection I remembered the three offspring of love, I remembered Forgiveness, Compassion and Grace. Those three children of love that show us how to forgive and be kind and gracious and tender. And I realised I do not need to rewrite my life. But instead forgive. And embrace. And be gracious. “
🪺🐦⬛
I’ve always been attracted to the word Murmuration from the first day I’d ever heard it said. Seated in a University auditorium at the Banff Mtn. Film Festival. The favorites of the festival, traveling with ‘the best of the best’ around the world. Originating in Alberta , Canada. One of the favorites, The Art of Flying. I watched in awe on the edge of my seat, almost holding my breath ,with long inhales. Starlings doing their dance in a mesmerizing display of an otherworldly art form, combined together in mass , an opus of survival. And here you are, applying the word to the story boards of your life. Now I close my eyes and see my own family’s history. The stature of tales and fables, the moral to the stories. Like the Starlings undulating , expanding and contracting ever changing ,but always returning, massed together, as they move through time and space.
A beautiful use of the word . I will think of this story from now on. When I ‘visit’ my own family tree. Murmuration of all things family. Forever shaping, changing, but always the birth of my story. And I will think of the “ Three children” and smile.
How did I miss this one?
Probably Ranger’s fault ( he was younger then, always getting into something, now it’s only half the time)
A beautiful story Jonathan.
And a beautiful comment, Lor.
Murmuration is a royal word. The sound. The image it creates, the freedom. Chaos but not chaos. It's strangely perfect for the way we tell our stories, the same flowing imagery but also contained, enclosed.
Lovely. Thanks Lor, I'll ponder all this now :)
What a good job chronicling that arc from looking at the photos to feeling free. I recognize the tyranny of memory that you look at so clearly.
Thanks Wes, I’m glad you recognised that, that’s what I meant in the “substacky talk” at the beginning, that I hope to make the writing recognisable. 👍🏼
Recognizable writing should be our first duty as writers, poets, essayists. That so much writing on Substack is not recognizable nor comprehendible is my main complaint with about 90% of what I read here. Shame because there's plenty of talent here.
I'm a bit nervous of the slippery slope of analysing Substack. I reckon 90% of everything is junk, ice cream flavours and political ideologies and shoe repairers work, you name it and it's mostly awful. Yep, I think you're right, there's a huge amount of writing I just don't relate to, things that just don't satisfy my needs here on Substack.
And then there's some real gems. I've read some things that have inspired me to be a better writer. Honest real stuff. I still think of those prose pieces you've written about your life in carpentry. I love that stuff (and your poetry of course).
Just off the top of my head, @Chloe Hopes's, Death and Birds, @Susie Mawhinney's A Hill And I, @David Knowles Elvers By Moonlight @Fotini Masika's Tomasikaki, there's so many more... I'd love to discover more so if you've got any suggestions then hand 'em over.
But yeah, sometimes I think I'm shouting into an empty cave, writing my heart out over here and everyone else is desperate to read about...well, you know, the same old stuff.
I'll check them out. I like Paul Wittenberger, interesting stuff.
Me too. Paul is excellent and very prodigious, quite the inspiration
Jonathan, I wanted to mention Amy Myers, excellent poet https://achristinemyers.substack.com/
and MK Creel, also excellent
https://asmallspectacle.substack.com/
What beautiful writing! True freedom in breaking through the familial mythology to stretch your own wings into your unique murmuration. I salute you sir, the sky is yours.
What a fabulous comment. I'm smiling. Thanks.
I DO know what you mean! I get some of my best ideas when I am outside walking and just Being and in one other time/place.
My repeated story...has to do with my dad and a moment in time, told from only his perspective and point of view, and its usually told/shared after he has had more than a few beers, when he becomes sentimental times infinity (because he is usually sentimental anyways). I don't actually remember it happening, but I've heard it so much (my dad is an alcoholic, after all), that it has taken on its own life and feeling, depending on the slurring sentences and how watery his eyes get. But...here's what stands out, for me, at least: it's the same story. The same one story. I am frozen in time in that one moment, forever, for him. He has a hard time reconciling 53-year-old me with 5/6-year-old me, so he chooses, forever, to see me as 5/6-year-old. Mmm...much could be said about that, I guess. Anyway, thanks for your post/share!
PS: your laughter was infectious and sweet, in a weird way. Because it makes you more 'real'. That's a weird thing to say, I know, but not many people are giggling when they do their audio readings, but laughter is very human, you know? It makes us not robots, if you follow me. XO
Exactly. That being frozen in time is such a good point. Like some of these family stories not only lock you in time, but they stop the "story-teller" ever having to pay attention to the current you, strange straitjackets in some ways. That's a bit of an exaggeration but you know what I mean. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences.
Anyway, thanks for mentioning the first bit, Danielle, glad you appreciated that, wasn't sure really if I'll continue with those things or not. So nice, thanks :)
Mmm...that is precisely it! It is a straitjacket. That is not an exaggeration in any way.
Maybe not for him, but it feels that way for me. For him, yep, he doesn't pay attention to the current me, perhaps because it is too scary for him to think about himself getting older. I don't know the real or definite reason and I don't need to, necessarily.
More importantly to me is that I don't like feeling constrained and that is how I feel when I'm around him. It's not like we're in the same city, we're hours and hours apart, so I don't have to be physically in his space often, but I dread when I do. Sorry for rambling. You just have awoken something in me about this particular thing, and I thought you would want to know - isn't that the point of writing? Thank you, Jonathan! For helping me uncover that, it is most helpful!! XO
I guess one of the things I'm trying to say in the piece, is the idea that these stories are not the telling of you, they are just stories that are told by families, for good and for ill, and that realisation is a way of freeing yourself from feeling responsibile somehow. The world, and each of us, are far too complex to capture in memories and oft repeated stories. You're too complex, and I suppose your others are too, right?
I think some of the thing about feeling constrained might be about feeling overly simplified by these stories, so rather than having your true depth and complexity properly described, you recognise the limitations of the "you" in the stories.
Sometimes it feels like a battle between the power of self-fulfilling prophesy and wanting to be truly seen for who we are. That's kind of what I meant about these stories "hammering each of us onto our own unique crucifix."
I suppose the idea of forgiveness, compassion and grace is that it's good to apply those ways of thinking/behaving/etc. to oneself as well as to others. Because it's not your fault that the stories are told the way they are told, and they are not stories of you, but of the family itself, like a structure that holds all of the family, you, your father, everyone else, in place. For me, that helps me to forgive others and to forgive myself too.
Anyway, I hope this doesn't sound preachy or like I'm offering some platitudes or advice. I really have no more idea than the next person. I'm just so honoured that your reading and getting things from my writing, and sharing that with me, Danielle, because it is, as you rightly say, the point of writing :)
Thanks so much, Danielle.
Thanks, Jonathan. I want to reassure you that you didn't sound preachy at all. And I did understand the points you were making, I just got laser focused in on the one thing because the fog surrounding it suddenly cleared and I saw it fully.
In the end he is my dad, he's family. You know? There is ample compassion and grace and forgiveness there, because just like any of us, he's figuring out stuff in his way and his time. He is just stuck in that sentimental loop and it's not my job to figure out how to move him beyond that, it's all up to him. All I can take care of is my own self, and I do :-) Have mercy, do I ever!
Again, thanks for your lovely writing, and for the kindness you extended in talking with me. You are very generous to respond! Have a wonderful and blessed day. XO
That was a brilliant response. You’re entirely right. I guess this is a mutual admiration society then :) You have a gear one too 🙏🏼
I'm hanging up now. Tee hee. XO