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Beginner's Heart
Beginner's Heart
heartsickness, the ’60s, and Ferguson MO
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I write daily. Often it’s a note to family, or a response to a friend or colleague. Sometimes revising creative work, and usually this blog. Lately, the blog has probably saved my blood pressure (normally quite low). I write to process — I’m of the Flannery O’Connor (I write because I don’t know what I…
#iftheygunnedmedown, or, America’s open season on young black men
By
Britton Gildersleeve
The tragic shooting of Michael Brown is only the latest in a series of such tragedies. Unlike in some cases of continued horror, I am not inured. This time, in fact, Brown’s horrible death cries out for more than FB postings, more than the usual denials from law enforcement and the white-washing of the officers…
turning people in to trees
By
Britton Gildersleeve
Many years ago, when I was a fledgling hippie, I read Ram Dass. I thought he was interesting, a word used for things I knew I should like, but didn’t really understand. But this? I love it. Either he’s gotten more accessible, or I’m more understanding. I’m sure it’s partly because I adore trees. (Warning:…
taxes, rural students, and my grandma
By
Britton Gildersleeve
In Oklahoma (like most red states) we believe taxes are an unnecessary evil. That we can — and should — get rid of them. Especially on corporate interests. I understand not liking to pay taxes. Too large a portion of my meagre teaching income has gone to the government over the years. But here’s what…
coherence of the heart
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I love folks who question. To interrogate our beliefs is so very difficult. Believe me, I do it daily. Where’s the line on this? Do this and this cancel each other out? If I think this, how can I feel this? If this is ‘right,’ is this other thing/ belief/ action ‘wrong’? If I buy…
crowd-sourcing and ‘no’ as a learning tool
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I’ve been working on a book manuscript for ages. Recently, however, it’s taken on immediacy, as I want to get it in the mail today. There’s one rather large problem: no title. Yep, I haven’t a clue what to call this labour of love, craft, frustration and confusion. So I did what any artist these…
FB, letters, and other little things
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I’m huge on writing, as you know if you’ve read almost any blog post of mine. What you might realise, however, is that I’m huge on letter-writing, as well. In fact, I actually bought a life-time membership to the Letter Writers Alliance. Which then sent me a darling membership card, now pinned onto my bulletin…
old friends
By
Britton Gildersleeve
Old friends….what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, a time of confidences Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph… I spent today w/ old friends, one of them the closest I come to a brother from another mother. 🙂 His wonderful wife — someone I would love for…
what dreams can tell us
By
Britton Gildersleeve
In my dream last night, my mother was– once again — as she was when she was ‘herself.’ For those of us who suffer the horrors of Alzheimer’s, this is no small feat. It was years after my mother’s death before I saw her as this picture shows her, and not as a skeletal shadow,…
chores and a plug for whining
By
Britton Gildersleeve
I think there should be a National Day of Whining. And yes, I know there’s a National Whiners Day (Boxing Day — December 26th — what’s up w/ that??). But it’s not the same. I don’t want to be a whiner. I want to whine. There is a (possibly subtle, but real) difference. I’m not…
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