Memory is SUCH an interesting thing. In some ways, quite precarious in its own right. As a memoir writer, I think a TON about the way memory works, about how to be clear about what is for sure there and what is maybe there and to always account for perspective being everything and so much more. Marya and I have discussed co-teaching a session or two on writing from memory and, specifically, including other people.
I appreciate you very much, Jan. What a joy to write with you yesterday! ♥️
This was mesmerizing, Holly. You totally capture the way memories are visual and sensory fragments. Love your invitation at the end! Sounds wonderful. We’re due for a long weekend sailing cruise, otherwise I’m so tempted. Thanks for the playlist! I favorited it on Spotify. 💚
Memories are like shape-shifters, transforming and adapting, revealing truths and messages that have long been forgotten or need perspective now, today, to help us navigate the complex times we live in.
Such a smart way of putting it--long-forgotten messages. It's fascinating to me to consider why particular bits or moments remain, while much is lost to wherever consciously unaccessible memories live. I like thinking of them (or maybe it's the contemplation of them) serving as navigators. ♥️
This reads like a kaleidoscopic poem—you, holding one end up to my eye, the other magically held to yours as you peer back in time. And while not a single mention of emotion (as far as I can recall) it hums with a feeling of reverent warmth, maybe a bit of melancholy, but also gorgeous pluck. Your writing sends me Holly! “I’m learning, I think, to navigate by starlight, by which I mean gut, by which I mean heart.”
"Your writing sends me!" Thank you, my friend. What a wonderful gift to hear.
And I love that this read like a poem. I was sort of thinking of it as a long-form prose poem.
Reverent warmth and melancholy, yes, I think that's exactly the feelings I was having. I wonder how much, for me and others, feelings like melancholy are woven into pieces (whatever genre or topic) just by virtue of the fraught-ness of the world these days.
What lovely memories. They feel so idyllic, so summer. I do like how you deal with gaps in your memories. I fear all my childhood memories are mostly gaps, breaks in the film reel. I wrote something for the prompt. Maybe I'll publish it tomorrow.
Memory is soooo interesting that way. Yeah much of my childhood memories are filled with gaps too. And there are whole periods that seem one long gap. The more I've written (or tried to write) about time periods, the more a few more tidbits here or there surface.
And then there's the whole question of what happens to a memory once you've recounted it--the idea that it's a slightly new thing with each recollection.
So glad you wrote something from the prompt. Looking forward to reading it. :)
I have been struggling with conveying the fractious nature of memory - and here you are doing it beautifully! I am so glad I read this, I feel very inspired by the sentences you have spun. it makes a remarkable tapestry.
Awww, thank you, Evelyn. I think (and read and talk even😆) A LOT on how to deal with memories and making things like what's missing and perspective and speculation clear. I'm working on a couple memoirs (one's in the book proposal stage--yay) and enjoy writing reported essay.
So I really appreciate hearing the treatment is working well here.
I REALLY LOVE this one. Very inspiring. So many beautifully carved sentences that come together to form such huge universal sculptures. That thing of writing a very personal and very mutual experience is beautifully displayed and I really enjoyed reading this piece. Whenever I read something and then feel like writing myself I know I've read something valuable. Ahhhh to be alive. Excellent stuff Holly, thanks so much.
Me too! Which is often the case with your writing as well. It makes me want to get to the page. I think it's one of the most joyful things about writing and being part of a writing community--how inherently generative it can all be.
And thank you much. I'm SO glad you enjoyed this one. I (eventually) enjoyed writing it. Ha! I'm not sure why. It may have mostly been about having a lot going on lately. But I had a hard time with this prompt at first. I'd agreed to do it, though, so I pushed through. And I ended up being quite pleased. Ah, and yet another value of writing in community,
Awww, thank you, Stacie! I'm so glad you liked the ending. I had quite a few versions before settling on this one. So what a gift to hear it worked well for you. ♥️
I love the way you ended this Holly, all the bridges in our past and how we choose to stop being a bridge.
I am living in summer when I can go to the beach, or trail, and find solitude before all the visitors arrive. It is a moment in time where I pretend the land is mine and I belong to it, without sharing. Then, in a blink of an eye, the feeling is gone. The land belongs to the collective and the creator and my sense of summer shifts.
Thank you, Donna. I've been thinking a lot about all the divisiveness that's plaguing so many of us these days and trying to be aware of what role I might be playing in it. Then someone I write with often, Marya Hornbacher (fantastic Substack if you don't know her) said something similar the other day. I think it was the way she said it, her conviction that we're all part of it that helped me gain a little clarity. And I do think it's the bridge thing. It's not that I don't still prioritize bridge making and bridge being; it's just that even that has become siloed.
I love time on a beach or trail in solitude. So glad you're getting some!
Awww, thank you, Troy. Love hearing this from a poet, as I thought of this as sort of a long-form prose poem. And I love the idea of flitting in and out.
Wonderful Holly. Following you through each of these memories was such an immersive experience. I felt like I was there with you all the way through.
Also, I gotta point out two lines I loved:
“There, a criss-cross maze of moss-covered fallen logs to run atop or crawl through or dig beetles from, rock outcroppings to scramble, groves for stretching in dappled light.”
“Here, I’m a bit older. I’m learning, I think, to navigate by starlight, by which I mean gut, by which I mean heart.”
Fantastic. I love that you were there with me. It was both fun and interesting to sift through these memories and try to translate them into words--without filling in the gaps.
And you have, of course, picked out two of my favorite lines. It's like you can feel the delight I had in coming to them.
And I must say, as someone who feels an unnecessary compulsion to fill in every gap, I so enjoy when you don’t fill in the gaps — it leaves things open in a way I find very refreshing.
Hehehe, glad to hear I picked out two of your favs. I think what I feel is the delight that would strike me if I came up with such wonderful words. :)
Sometimes we understand that something is precarious before we learn. Other times, we learn by stepping, and falling. You seem to do both here, in this wonderful cascade of water and stone, past and present, tangible and ethereal. The turning glint of images is marvelous, Holly.
May I admit to feeling...what am I feeling?...wonder-full at realizing you and Marya must have followed the same lead to build a soundtrack? Was it a prompt on Saturday, when I accidentally missed half the workshop? That my heart told me to create a playlist this week and to now discover I am one of (at least) three is definitely blowing my mind. Yah!
Such a grand turn to this lovely essay: "I think of all the ways we’re connected, those connections seen or unseen, the way we guide or shadow each other, aware or not, are guided or shadowed, aware or not, how powerful tiny moments of seeing the shapes of each other’s deepest yearnings in just the right moments can be. How all these things are bridges. The ways I’ve stopped being a bridge." xxoo
lovethe way these memories layer -- I'm there with the colours, the heat, the pushing at boundaries -- and yes -- the precarity of it all.
Thank you, Jan.
Memory is SUCH an interesting thing. In some ways, quite precarious in its own right. As a memoir writer, I think a TON about the way memory works, about how to be clear about what is for sure there and what is maybe there and to always account for perspective being everything and so much more. Marya and I have discussed co-teaching a session or two on writing from memory and, specifically, including other people.
I appreciate you very much, Jan. What a joy to write with you yesterday! ♥️
Thank you, Holly -- the memory workshop sounds fascinating. Would love to be involved :) xxx
This was mesmerizing, Holly. You totally capture the way memories are visual and sensory fragments. Love your invitation at the end! Sounds wonderful. We’re due for a long weekend sailing cruise, otherwise I’m so tempted. Thanks for the playlist! I favorited it on Spotify. 💚
Oh think you. Mesmerizing I'll take happily!
Sailing cruise sounds wonderful.
I appreciate you much, Julie, and was so delighted to write with you yesterday. ♥️
It was a joy - thanks for convening us.
Gorgeous!!
Memories are like shape-shifters, transforming and adapting, revealing truths and messages that have long been forgotten or need perspective now, today, to help us navigate the complex times we live in.
Paulette! Hi. I hope you're doing well.
Such a smart way of putting it--long-forgotten messages. It's fascinating to me to consider why particular bits or moments remain, while much is lost to wherever consciously unaccessible memories live. I like thinking of them (or maybe it's the contemplation of them) serving as navigators. ♥️
This reads like a kaleidoscopic poem—you, holding one end up to my eye, the other magically held to yours as you peer back in time. And while not a single mention of emotion (as far as I can recall) it hums with a feeling of reverent warmth, maybe a bit of melancholy, but also gorgeous pluck. Your writing sends me Holly! “I’m learning, I think, to navigate by starlight, by which I mean gut, by which I mean heart.”
"Your writing sends me!" Thank you, my friend. What a wonderful gift to hear.
And I love that this read like a poem. I was sort of thinking of it as a long-form prose poem.
Reverent warmth and melancholy, yes, I think that's exactly the feelings I was having. I wonder how much, for me and others, feelings like melancholy are woven into pieces (whatever genre or topic) just by virtue of the fraught-ness of the world these days.
What lovely memories. They feel so idyllic, so summer. I do like how you deal with gaps in your memories. I fear all my childhood memories are mostly gaps, breaks in the film reel. I wrote something for the prompt. Maybe I'll publish it tomorrow.
Memory is soooo interesting that way. Yeah much of my childhood memories are filled with gaps too. And there are whole periods that seem one long gap. The more I've written (or tried to write) about time periods, the more a few more tidbits here or there surface.
And then there's the whole question of what happens to a memory once you've recounted it--the idea that it's a slightly new thing with each recollection.
So glad you wrote something from the prompt. Looking forward to reading it. :)
I have been struggling with conveying the fractious nature of memory - and here you are doing it beautifully! I am so glad I read this, I feel very inspired by the sentences you have spun. it makes a remarkable tapestry.
Awww, thank you, Evelyn. I think (and read and talk even😆) A LOT on how to deal with memories and making things like what's missing and perspective and speculation clear. I'm working on a couple memoirs (one's in the book proposal stage--yay) and enjoy writing reported essay.
So I really appreciate hearing the treatment is working well here.
Congrats! That’s very cool.
I REALLY LOVE this one. Very inspiring. So many beautifully carved sentences that come together to form such huge universal sculptures. That thing of writing a very personal and very mutual experience is beautifully displayed and I really enjoyed reading this piece. Whenever I read something and then feel like writing myself I know I've read something valuable. Ahhhh to be alive. Excellent stuff Holly, thanks so much.
Me too! Which is often the case with your writing as well. It makes me want to get to the page. I think it's one of the most joyful things about writing and being part of a writing community--how inherently generative it can all be.
And thank you much. I'm SO glad you enjoyed this one. I (eventually) enjoyed writing it. Ha! I'm not sure why. It may have mostly been about having a lot going on lately. But I had a hard time with this prompt at first. I'd agreed to do it, though, so I pushed through. And I ended up being quite pleased. Ah, and yet another value of writing in community,
There is no point in me repeating what Jonathan said... just saying!
I loved every word, I always do and you always inspire! xx
That last section & ending - beautiful. ❤️🩹
Awww, thank you, Stacie! I'm so glad you liked the ending. I had quite a few versions before settling on this one. So what a gift to hear it worked well for you. ♥️
Absolutely works - sometimes endings are amorphous or not what we think they’ll be, right? So lovely to see that reflected here.
I love the way you ended this Holly, all the bridges in our past and how we choose to stop being a bridge.
I am living in summer when I can go to the beach, or trail, and find solitude before all the visitors arrive. It is a moment in time where I pretend the land is mine and I belong to it, without sharing. Then, in a blink of an eye, the feeling is gone. The land belongs to the collective and the creator and my sense of summer shifts.
Thank you, Donna. I've been thinking a lot about all the divisiveness that's plaguing so many of us these days and trying to be aware of what role I might be playing in it. Then someone I write with often, Marya Hornbacher (fantastic Substack if you don't know her) said something similar the other day. I think it was the way she said it, her conviction that we're all part of it that helped me gain a little clarity. And I do think it's the bridge thing. It's not that I don't still prioritize bridge making and bridge being; it's just that even that has become siloed.
I love time on a beach or trail in solitude. So glad you're getting some!
I appreciate you!
I love this kaleidoscope of memories and feelings, Holly. I felt like it was flitting in and out of each of them with you. So beautiful.
Awww, thank you, Troy. Love hearing this from a poet, as I thought of this as sort of a long-form prose poem. And I love the idea of flitting in and out.
Wonderful Holly. Following you through each of these memories was such an immersive experience. I felt like I was there with you all the way through.
Also, I gotta point out two lines I loved:
“There, a criss-cross maze of moss-covered fallen logs to run atop or crawl through or dig beetles from, rock outcroppings to scramble, groves for stretching in dappled light.”
“Here, I’m a bit older. I’m learning, I think, to navigate by starlight, by which I mean gut, by which I mean heart.”
— Amazing! :)
Fantastic. I love that you were there with me. It was both fun and interesting to sift through these memories and try to translate them into words--without filling in the gaps.
And you have, of course, picked out two of my favorite lines. It's like you can feel the delight I had in coming to them.
Thank you.
I was definitely there with you.
And I must say, as someone who feels an unnecessary compulsion to fill in every gap, I so enjoy when you don’t fill in the gaps — it leaves things open in a way I find very refreshing.
Hehehe, glad to hear I picked out two of your favs. I think what I feel is the delight that would strike me if I came up with such wonderful words. :)
Summer! To be seen,
to see everything, to merge.
To hear, disappear.
Aaaaah.
What a beautiful reply.
Grinning over here.
Thank you.
Sometimes we understand that something is precarious before we learn. Other times, we learn by stepping, and falling. You seem to do both here, in this wonderful cascade of water and stone, past and present, tangible and ethereal. The turning glint of images is marvelous, Holly.
May I admit to feeling...what am I feeling?...wonder-full at realizing you and Marya must have followed the same lead to build a soundtrack? Was it a prompt on Saturday, when I accidentally missed half the workshop? That my heart told me to create a playlist this week and to now discover I am one of (at least) three is definitely blowing my mind. Yah!
I love the impressionistic, visceral style of this. You bring the reader close in to the experience.
Such a grand turn to this lovely essay: "I think of all the ways we’re connected, those connections seen or unseen, the way we guide or shadow each other, aware or not, are guided or shadowed, aware or not, how powerful tiny moments of seeing the shapes of each other’s deepest yearnings in just the right moments can be. How all these things are bridges. The ways I’ve stopped being a bridge." xxoo