Maren's Musings

There is a poem by Mark Nepo entitled “Adrift.” (Google search it and you can read the whole thing!) One line in particular stuck out for me: “This is how the heart makes a duet of wonder and grief.” These times certainly feel like a duet of wonder and grief. It’s as if these times are a round, wonder and grief singing over one another. Which one will complete the song? With these two emotions singing through our lives, singing through these days… we kinda just want to know how it will end. Will wonder or grief win the day? The grief… How much we took for granted. The ability to go out and linger at a restaurant, celebrating a birthday, gathered around a table with those you love. The ability to go to a concert, or a live performance, or cheer on your favorite team at the ballpark. The ability to visit with relatives worry-free. Who knows when we’ll be able to do that again. Thanksgiving, then Christmas will pass - without all the usual festivities and gatherings. ...

  How did we get here ? Where the president of the United States is calling Dr. Fauci an “idiot,” and an entire news organization “bastards?” It’s not really surprising coming from DT, but damn… the rhetoric seems to get worse and worse by the day. Insults like this are never o.k. It’s unacceptable talk coming from a “leader,” but perhaps worse yet, he is giving his followers the green light to also talk and act in such despicable ways. This isn’t just election cycle nastiness; it’s a pattern that mustn’t be normalized or accepted. (Side note: if you haven’t already voted… make your plan!) Thank God it is Fall, because at least here in the Midwest, we can look out our windows and marvel at scenes of beauty. The trees in all their autumnal glory, the way the leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the street. (Minnesotans - that early snowfall, not so nice, but it can be beautiful too, can it not?!!) The cinnamon-laced sweet smell of an apple pie baking in the oven. These...

It was a recent morning, and I was nearing the end of walk on a glorious Fall day. As I walked alone in silence, I took in all the leaves as they turned their brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow. Fall - my favorite time of year. Yet as I walked my mind inevitably turned to current events. The muck of this world we have been slogging through lately. As I walked past political sign after political sign, it felt hard to get away from the tensions that are so thick in the air. On a few streets, there were back-to-back neighbors with opposing yard signs, and not just one! I wondered how these neighbors get along (or not) with each other. Maybe they get along perfectly fine. After all, even Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia could vigorously disagree and still be friends outside the court. Yet I think all too often our relationships are NOT like that. People these days seem more likely to demean, discount, talk over and past those who hold differing views. Rather than “working acr...

This is a piece I wrote and submitted to  Another Mother Runner  in response to their call for essays entitled "Seven Months In: Life and Running Amidst the Pandemic."  So of course it's a bit more autobiographical and about running... but also about the ups and downs of life during the pandemic. Enjoy!  In these strange times, my emotions have run the gamut from grief to gratefulness and everything in-between. March 13 th . Friday the 13 t h . When hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes became our new best friends. The weekend when most everything changed, running remained a constant. I could still lace up and head outside for some mind-clearing and stress-busting miles.   I was slated to run a half-marathon in June. I imagined it as my “comeback” after a few years off from that distance. But late spring when my depression worsened and my energy dipped, I questioned whether I still had it in me to run that far. Yet I managed to follow a training plan. I ran th...

“People don’t like to talk about it.” It was almost like a triple-dog-dare… I dare you to talk about it! “People don’t like to talk about it.” This was the writing prompt I was recently given from a practice I’m engaged in called “Wild Writing.”   The practice is quite simple – writing coach Laurie Wagner sends out three short videos per week, reads us a poem twice, gives us a few “jump off" lines, and has us write “as quickly and as poorly as possible” for 15 minutes.   The idea is to just write and block out the perfectionistic voice in our heads that tells us we have to “get it right.”    With some practice, it gets easier to tune out that voice.   That makes room for what our “creative unconscious” is trying to tell us, and then write that down.   (Side note: If you’d like learn more, or to give this practice a try yourself, go to www.27powers.org ). The power is in the telling of the true stories. Some stories are easy to share; others re...

"Our Real Work" - Wendell Berry It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work. And that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. The writing below was based off the above poem, and the writing prompt, "We've come to our real work."  We’ve come to our real work. Now is the time to learn the history. The history that was always there… but maybe we didn’t learn because it got whitewashed in all the textbooks and curriculum. Now is the time to learn the history. The history that was deemed too controversial for a high school. The history that would “ruffle feathers” or make us too uncomfortable.  Instead, we got the cursory introductory course. Now is the time to study our own history. The books, the documentaries, the articles, the memoirs that tell it straight. Thank God for these ...

“Melting Pot” Before May 25th… Before the name George Floyd tragically joined the list of names, the list that should not even exist… Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner, Treyvon Martin, The list that goes on, and on, and on. Before the nation witnessed the horrific killing of yet another black person at the hands of a racist wielding too much power, harboring too much hate… Before… the racial tensions were already there, make no mistake. The heat on the “melting pot” had been turned up so high, for so many years, so many decades, so many centuries. It was only a matter of time before something was going to burn. Too long in the pot. Too long have we thrown those black and brown bodies in the pot and tried to melt them into “American.” What does it mean to be “American” anyway? “American” like Velveeta cheese? Moldable and meltable? But like this “cheese,” we know deep down that the “melting pot” is not the real deal. The “melting pot” is a dange...