Sitting behind me in the Big Secret Theater, this afternoon, Beth stood and as we were both putting on our coats, asked, “Did you see the Into the Quiet session this morning?”
I responded with an enthusiastic, “Yes!”
From there, I went on about how I had read the book by Kyo Maclear, Birds Art Life in early spring…February…and she shuffled through her phone to show me a photograph that she had posted to all of her friends in April.
This is Beth’s photograph and it speaks quite loudly of the magic found in the pages of Kyo’s book.
Beth and I, I felt, had an immediate connection as she shared the utter joy of watching birds at her feeder and about the fact that she wishes to gift her friends this book. I utterly agree about the magic of this writing and heartily recommend it to others.
I booked my tickets for two sessions only this year at Wordfest, and both because Kyo Maclear was a panelist. One was titled In the Quiet and the other, Bionic Women Writers. I had no intentions of picking up any other book, but brought Kyo’s in my purse so that I would take opportunity for a signing and maybe a short conversation.
The following photographs are a tad (understated) unfocused…but, that’s okay, right?
Snipped directly out of the Wordfest archives…no sense in me writing all of the biographical details again…will just link back. That’s alright, right?
Stories of solitude, difference, survival, and winter. Listen as these four authors share their books about what it means to be alone, but not necessarily lonely, in the modern world. This event is hosted by Jeremy Klaszus.
First of all, the host, Jeremy, was fantastic! Follow THIS LINK to read a little about Jeremy. The flow to the panel was spectacular. In fact, I have to say that I felt this was the most magical session I have attended for its connection.
I haven’t read anything by Michael Finkel, but he has interviewed and written about Christopher Knight. I purchased my own copy of The Stranger in the Woods, after hearing a very provocative reading and interesting panel discussion on solitude. I have respect for Michael’s approach to research on this one and his respect for the process.
Many people dream of escaping modern life, but most will never act on it. The Stranger in the Woods is the remarkable true story of a man who lived alone in the woods of Maine for 27 years, making this dream a reality not out of anger at the world, but simply because he preferred to live on his own.
This is a gripping story of survival that asks fundamental questions about solitude, community and what makes a good life, and a deeply moving portrait of a man who was determined to live his own way, and succeeded.
This next one gave me shivers. Reading from his chapter, The Failing Body, I was captivated, based on personal experience as it relates to my own loved ones and their health. I think that all of the authors reached deeply into my heart this morning because for the past ten years, while still surrounded by my loved ones and friends, I am in a constant relationship to/with solitude. The title of Michael’s book, i A Singular Life in a Crowded World will most likely support a lot of my views on life and love and time and presence. I had a lovely chat with Michael at book signing time. It meant a lot to me that even in this case, he was completely present to me.
The capacity to be truly alone is one of life’s subtlest skills. Real solitude allows us to reflect and recharge, improving our relationships with ourselves and, paradoxically, with others. Today, though, the zeitgeist embraces sharing like never before. Fueled by our dependence on social media, we have created an ecosystem of obsessive distraction that dangerously undervalues solitude. Harris examines why our experience of solitude has become so impoverished, and how we may grow to love it again in our digital landscape.
Kyo’s contributions to the panel discussion, as well as her selected readings, continued to support my true connection with the lessons that are written down into the pages of her book and lived out during her time journeying with a bird-watching musician, Jack Breakfast, in the city of Toronto. An awesome read! Do it!
In 2012, Maclear met a local Toronto musician with a captivating side passion — he had recently lost his heart to birds. Curious about what prompted this young urban artist to suddenly embrace nature, Kyo decided to follow him for a year and find out.
Intimate and philosophical, moving with ease between the granular and the grand, this touching memoir is about disconnection — how our passions can buckle under the demands and emotions of daily life — and about reconnection: how the act of seeking passion and beauty in small ways can lead us to discover our most satisfying life.
Clea Roberts, living on the edge of Whitehorse, Yukon…on an acreage that opens up to a huge expanse of forest, shared three poems that caused me to shiver in my seat. The images were so exact, the phrasing was so perfect…I am so grateful that tonight I am able to hold the book, Auguries. Not only were the readings beautiful, but the substance of what Clea had to say. I was moved by her perceptions…about wood burning…about the dark river’s edge. Moving!
Ancient auguries, Clea explained, were the result of knowledge/insights gained by the practice of ancient seers, drawing imaginary grids in a part of the sky and then observing the birds that moved in and out of that particular space, their numbers, their behaviours…
I feel as though all of these writers touched upon a bit of my heart that holds on so tightly to my mother…her memory…the responsibility I feel to keep her alive in other loved ones’ memories. Grief is a journey that must be allowed.
Just this morning, I looked down at the socks that I put on my feet. At my mother’s passing four years ago, while packing, I rolled up all of my mother’s socks and brought them home to Calgary. They had been snipped at the ankles by my father, with scissors. My mother’s ankles were swollen. Of a bag load of socks, after four years, there are only two pair remaining. I speak to my mother when I put my socks on in the morning…most mornings they are not, any longer, her socks. Something in Clea’s poems brought my mother’s socks to mind…something that Kyo said…the look in Michael Harris’s eyes…and the words that Michael Fickel wrote into his book for me to find later.
I can’t write about the session titled Bionic Women Writers at the moment…about seeing Melanie…about any of it. I just have to step back for a little while. Maybe pour a glass of wine. Maybe Skype with my father. James has taken Max for a walk.
Whether speaking of erotic love, domestic life, spiritual wilderness or family entanglements, the poems of Auguries, the much-anticipated second collection from Yukon poet Clea Roberts, are saturated with their northern landscape. With poems like single larches, each in an immense white plain spare and clean, their exactness startling and arresting, Roberts showcases her sensitivity and skill in this profound collection.
In the end, I was thrilled with all of the authors in both sessions. Must reads…for sure…Bionic Women Writers…and other perceptions to come.