Convinced to Tweet

Day One of my writing program’s (Whidbey Writers Workshop) Spring residency found me in the session How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Social Media, led by poet and Whidbey alum Kelly Davio. I smiled when I read the title of the handout Kelly passed around—“My Plan for Launching an Online Presence in 2014.” ­ No problem, I thought, I already have an online presence.

First there was the website and then the Facebook fan page for my book, Hands at Work. Soon, another Facebook page for me.  That seemed like plenty of “social media” for this semi-introverted-living-on-a-remote-island Quaker writer—until April 2010, when I attended a meeting of QUIP - Quakers Uniting in Publications. There, Friends of all ages spoke of the Quaker history of writing as ministry and how it is evolving as publishing and communication change. With the guidance and encouragement of QUIP participants, I returned home convinced to blog; a few weeks later, as my writing group cheered me on, I created this blog site.

Maybe I hadn’t quite learned to love social media by the time I was sitting in Kelly’s workshop, but I wasn’t worrying about it—until I read the first item on the handout:  My Twitter Plan. I started to hyperventilate.

“Don’t you need a smartphone to tweet?” I asked Kelly. I’m off the hook on this one, I thought; my antique flip phone can barely make calls and handle texts.

“That’s how Twitter worked when it first started,” Kelly said. “But now you can tweet from your computer, too.”

“Oh… good,” I said, sweat starting to prickle my hairline.

Kelly became my interpreter and guide, introducing me to this new culture, a part of today’s communication stream I’d avoided. She walked me through the steps to begin:

·        Go to https://twitter.com/ and register a user name (mine is @irisgraville)

·        Add photo (or else Twitter will use the default image of an egg)

·        Write a brief bio – as with all things Twitter, you have 140 characters.

The mechanics seemed easy enough, now that I understood I could do all of this on my laptop. Then Kelly introduced beginning Twitter-speak:

·        Following – people whose tweets you want to read when you check your Twitter feed (a string of their photos and 140-character tweets show up when I log in)

·        Followers – people who want to see your tweets when they check their Twitter feed

·        @ is used to “tag” someone that you mention in a tweet

·        # - hashtags before words (such as #Quakerblogger) allow you to become part of larger conversations by linking you to all posts on this subject

·        Retweet – lets you “recycle” someone else’s tweet so your “followers” see it.

I know there’s much more vocabulary and nuance to this new language. Just as I do with my elementary Spanish skills, I’ll undoubtedly fumble and make mistakes, but Kelly taught me enough to get started.  And she offered some advice about hanging around this “water cooler of the Internet.”

·        Act like a person, not like a sales robot.

·        Think about the things you’re willing to talk about and share with others—Twitter is very public.

·        Demonstrate a sense of humor.

·        Share things that are worth reading.

·        Interact with other people, such as asking someone a question.

·        Promote other writers (or whoever your community is) in a real and honest way.

So far, I’m enjoying my exploration of this form of communication. I’ve been surprised by who else is involved.  For example, I’m following a number of Quakers and Quaker organizations such as:

@pendlehill

@westernfriend

@friendsjournal

@DianeFCNL

@jonwatts.

Many of my writing friends, plus well-known authors (@AnneLamott, @AmyTan) tweet regularly, too. 

One of my questions when I started to blog resurfaced with thoughts of entering the world of Twitter:

Do I want to spend more of my already-full life in front of the computer screen engaging in this virtual, but distant, way with others?

I’m still not clear about that, and I have concerns about these “connections,” about the quality of interactions, and the quantity of input.  But for now, I’m feeling convinced that Twitter is a helpful tool to expand my writing and Quaker networks.

           

How about you?  Have you been convinced to Tweet? Why – or why not?

Forgiveness Revisited

“Forgiveness is a condition in which the sin of the past is not altered, nor its inevitable consequences changed. Rather in forgiveness a fresh act is added to those of the past which restores the broken relationship and opens the way for the one who forgives and the one who is forgiven to meet and communicate deeply with each other in the present and the future.  Thus, forgiveness heals the past, though the scars remain and the consequences go on.”   ~ Douglas Steere

In 2011, I wrote about forgiveness in response to Douglas Steere’s quote and thoughts it raised during a time of Worship-Sharing at my Quaker Meeting.  That day, I focused on my response to interpersonal conflicts, disagreements, and misunderstandings. Now, after reading the novel The Crying Tree, I’m thinking again about the act of forgiveness in the face of violent crime.

The book’s author, Naseem Rakha, spoke recently at Bellingham (WA) Friends Meeting, giving some background about how she came to write The Crying Tree and what she’s learned from that process. In 1996, she was assigned by NPR to cover the first execution in 34 years of a death row inmate in Oregon.  Naseem’s research in order to write a story to be aired the day of the execution was the beginning of her examination of the death penalty. Eventually, it led her to write a novel based on the Oregon execution and others. Written with the integrity of a journalist and the literary skill of a storyteller, the book delves deep into the complexities of crime, punishment, and forgiveness.

Irene, one of the characters in The Crying Tree, adds what Douglas Steere would call a  “fresh act” when she writes letters to her son’s killer as a way to heal her pain and anger.  The reactions of others to Irene’s eventual forgiveness of him span the breadth of views about crime and punishment, giving readers insight into a wide range of perspectives.

As part of her research, Raseem talked with many people on death row as well as family members of victims.  Their experiences convinced her of the healing power of face-to-face meetings between offenders and victims.

This year, the legislature in my home state of Washington took a first step in supporting such healing by adopting a Restorative Justice bill.  Drafted with leadership from Friends Committee on Washington Public Policy, the law encourages a voluntary process of bringing together certain juvenile offenders and those harmed by their actions. Typically, theses face-to-face encounters also include others in the community, including family and support systems around the offenders and victims. The goal is for these parties to arrive at a mutually acceptable approach—a fresh act­—to encourage the offender to take responsibility for righting the wrong that has been done. 

The story of The Crying Tree is far from my personal experience, and I pray that I never have to endure the pain and sorrow of the book’s characters.  But I know that we all are affected by our culture’s values and responses to crime. Quaker faith and practice calls us to forgiveness and offers some healing alternatives. Recent issues of Friends Journal (March 2012) and Western Friend (June 2012) focused on the long history of Friends’ witness for restorative justice and some of the ways that continues today. Now, I’ve added The Crying Tree as another source for seeking the path of forgiveness.

Walking in Circles

Carved labyrinth at
Whispers of Nature

            

           “Our lives are an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn. That there is no end in nature but every end is a beginning.” 

                                 ~  Ralph Waldo Emerson

             I spent part of May 5 walking in circles. Sometimes such circuitous movement is a result of confusion    and frustration, or it’s evidence of procrastination. But that day, my circling was intentional.

Three years ago, the Labyrinth Society, an international organization founded in 1998, designated the first Saturday in May as World Labyrinth Day. I learned about this commemoration from friends Susie and Nick Teague.  In 2006, they founded Whispers of Nature and since then have been developing an outdoor labyrinth. In honor of the global labyrinth event, Susie and Nick invited the public to walk the unique maze they’ve created.

Path surrounded by
herbs & flowers

While the precise origin of the labyrinth is unknown, the earliest datable labyrinth was built in Greece around 1300 B.C. This ancient tool for walking meditation can be found in schools, prisons, parks, hospitals, spas, churches, and retreat centers.  Many labyrinths around the world replicate the one laid in the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France around 1200 A.D.  It has eleven circuits, or concentric circles, with a twelfth, at the center, in the shape of a six-petaled rosette. The labyrinth at Whispers of Nature has seven circuits, surrounded by a medicinal herb and flower garden. 

Whatever its design, the labyrinth is viewed as a metaphor for life’s journey.

There is no magic formula, no “right” way to walk a labyrinth.  It’s a mystical practice of the simple action of putting one foot in front of the other, following the labyrinth’s unexpected turns, and ending up at the center. A sign at the Whispers of Nature labyrinth offers simple instructions:

“Follow the single path in and out.  You may use it as a walking meditation, play music, or sing.  Your walk may be joyous, quiet, thoughtful or celebratory.  Choose your intention each time you walk.”

On World Labyrinth Day, I walked with intention and attention for three friends who are on their own walks with cancer, visualizing them held in a circle of love. 

Sculpture at the center of labyrinth

Sunshine glistened off the glass ornaments in the garden, and the wind whispered through the lavender, poppies, calendula, tulips, mint, and dozens of other plants I couldn’t identify. As always happens for me when I walk a labyrinth, I had moments of being uncertain of the route, of thinking I’d missed a turn, and then resting in the knowledge that the path would guide me if I trust it, slow down, and let go.

When I returned home, a copy of Western Friend waited in my mailbox; the issue’s theme – “Friends on Aging and Dying.”  The magazine fell open to “Every End Is A Beginning,” an essay by Susan Tweit, recounting her husband’s death from brain cancer.  The title is taken from the Emerson quote above.  I can’t imagine a more fitting thought to carry forward from my walk on World Labyrinth Day—and every day.