This past summer and fall, I found myself buying a lot more brand new books than my usual—which is all secondhand or library. Following the example of my friend Liz, I bought these all on bookshop.org and stopped buying books on Amazon. (My brother Luke has stopped using Amazon completely; I’m not quite there yet, but am close. PS—If you’re reading and wondering why should you stop shopping at Amazon?, here’s a quick starting place, found from a google.)
So anyway, Bookshop.org is neat in that your purchase is made from small, local bookstores. I bought most of mine from Semicolon, a Black- & woman-owned bookshop in Chicago (which I learned of again thanks to Liz). Read more
The envelopes are made in this fashion, cut from old book pages and wall calendar images. I make these so often that I don’t trace a template anymore! Simply make a series of folds to get the basic shape, then cut away the parts I know need to be cut away.
While reading in bed last night, that completion energy swept over me (nothing like a move in four days to spark getting things done, right?), and I was propelled to finish something else: a song I wrote this summer.
It’s Mary Oliver’s poem “Anne” put to music. I recorded a video of myself playing it back in September, added a few bars of vocal harmony a few weeks later, and there it sat for a month.
I’d wanted to add more—a shaker for some rhythm during the chorus, perhaps a bass line, layer on some oooos so it wouldn’t feel so empty—but being a newbie to Garage Band and this whole recording thing, that also felt a little overwhelming. (Maybe that’s why I hadn’t touched it in a month.)
So I added captions and published the song to YouTube last night:
(Volume needs to be loud to hear! I’ll do better with this on this on my next video creation…)
The message in this poem deeply resonates with me—that’s why I turned it into a song!—and that’s also why I wanted the words to appear on-screen.
I’ll also include the poem here, in writing:
Anne by Mary Oliver
The daughter is mad, and so I wonder what she will do. But she holds her saucer softly And sips, as people do, From moment to moment making Comments of rain and sun, Till I feel my own heart shaking– Till I am the frightened one. O Anne, sweet Anne, brave Anne, What did I think to see? The rumors of the village Have painted you savagely. I thought you would come in anger– A knife beneath your skirt. I did not think to see a face So peaceful and so hurt. I know the trouble is there, Under your little frown; But when you slowly lift your cup And when you set it down, I feel my heart go wild, Anne, I feel my heart go wild. I know a hundred children, But never before a child Hiding so deep a trouble Or wanting so much to please, Or tending so desperately all The small civilities.
I’m grateful for our human ability to playfully make things, the joy of beginning something new, and for Mary Oliver’s words!
