Book Review: “Miracle Motors—A Pert Near True Story"

Some people go to the woods or the mountains to encounter the Divine. They seek the quiet to listen for the “still, small voice.” Peggy Senger Morrison, though, has some of her best conversations with God while driving a Kawasaki motorcycle named Rosie. She writes about them and other adventures in her new book, Miracle Motors - A Pert Near True Story.

This is a story of an unmediated relationship with God, writes Peggy, a Quaker preacher, teacher, and trauma healer. She’s also a storyteller who took some cues from a Cowboy Poet who spoke in Quaker meeting from time to time.

When he spoke, he stuck to the point and spoke what God put on his heart, and then sat down. He did tell stories—good ones. One time, after meeting, I asked him if the rather fantastical story he had told was true. His answer was, “Pert near.” I laughed and asked him to explain...

“Pert near true is a story that has so much truth to it, that it doesn’t really matter whether it happened or not.”

The Cowboy Poet’s philosophy helped Peggy see the “Quaker thing about truthfulness” in a new way, and …solved so many problems for her as a storyteller.

Miracle Motors started as a motorcycle travelogue nearly fifteen years ago; now it’s a collection of stories loaded with truth.  Peggy writes: It may be disguised as a memoir, but it is really a post-modern narrative theology. It is everything that I know by direct experience with God.  It has more in common with the journals of the first Quakers and the confessions of old Catholics than it does with the systematic theologies of modern scholars. It also has more motorcycles.

You feel like you’re winding along highways and back roads in Oregon and California with Peggy (and Rosie) as she unfolds story after story of her childhood in Chicago, earning a degree in counseling with a minor in pastoral ministry, her trip to a Holiness Women’s Clergy convention in Texas, and her early years as a Quaker minister. Peggy also writes plenty about Quakerism, the Bible, Jesus, and how all of these inform her actions.

But while Peggy is a preacher, I never felt “preached at.” Rather, her stories—like this one about her conversation with a truck-driver—made me think, and smile.

“So, watcha do when you aren’t ridin?”

“I’m a Quaker preacher.” This always stops them for a moment…

“So, what are y’all about?”

“Oh, you know, the standard Jesus stuff—being good to folks even when they aren’t good to you, taking care of the poor, keeping it simple, telling it like it is, not letting anything get between you and God.”

“Hunh.”

That has to be one of the most succinct descriptions of the Quaker testimonies of simplicity, peace, integrity, and equality.

Peggy’s adventures on the open road are rich in metaphors for life’s unexpected turns. One of those for her came with her first meeting of an African Quaker named David Niyonzima, a trauma healer in the Central African nation of Burundi.

While we were talking, I had a bit of a God moment, a clear but quiet voice ringing up from down inside me someplace… Quakers call this voice The Present Christ. It’s okay with me if you think we are delusional.  So the Voice said, “Do whatever this man asks of you.”

What David asked of Peggy was to teach him about trauma healing… and ultimately to travel to Burundi to help with his work there to train others in this approach. In 2003, Peggy left for the first of three trips to Central Africa, and the second half of the book includes stories of her experiences there.  More than a few involve motorcycles.

It will be no surprise to readers that Peggy returned from Africa, with, as she says, fresh eyes.

I came back with a passion for healing and for finding ways of escape through the barriers, obstacle courses, and mine fields that we use to keep people apart.

Those fresh eyes looked deeply at the schisms within Quakerism and the vision she and her partner, Alivia, shared for this faith:  something truly Quaker, and truly inclusive, and deeply Christ-centered. An oasis community where people could rest and recharge for whatever good work they did the rest of the time. Maybe even a church, not one that existed for its own sake, but one whose only purpose was to make some room for Mercy and Goodness.”

The closing chapters of Peggy’s memoir wind back and forth between another trip to Africa in 2010 and bike rides in the Western U.S., including a few stories about Freedom Friends Church that she and Alivia started in Salem, OR. Peggy finds parallels between group motorcycle rides and pastoral leadership.

Quaker pastors tend to ride sweep. The group itself sets the pace, the pastor watches and listens, to lend aid to anyone who falls or breaks down. A pastor should carry a tool kit.

Whether you’re a Quaker in the unprogrammed or the pastoral tradition, or someone seeking in other ways, Peggy’s “pert near true” stories will take you along on her spiritual journey. They’re also good ones to keep in your spiritual tool kit.

Miracle Motors is available through independent booksellers or online at unction.org.

Afterthought #31—Part of the Problem, Part of the Solution

Even though I took a break from news headlines while on Vacation Time, I’ve been aware of the turmoil in Ferguson, MO since the killing of Michael Brown by police officer Darren Wilson.  This essay, Different Rules Apply by Matt Zoller Seitz, reminded me that I’m part of the problem of racism and white privilege.  I urge you to read Seitz’s personal reflection that leads to this conclusion:

... there’s another lesson to draw from the incident, and it’s more disturbing, because it illuminates the flaws in a larger society, as well as the fact that complicity in racism is mostly passive: if you’re not fighting inequality every day, in ways both large and small, and if you accept the benefits of white privilege without questioning their rightness, you’re part of the problem, too. 

One group that is “fighting inequality every day” is the American Friends Service Committee and its efforts to confront systemic racism. I may be very far from Ferguson, but I can join this work by contributing to AFSC's response to the crisis in Ferguson. One small step toward being part of a solution to the problem of white privilege.

“Afterthoughts” are my blog version of a practice followed in some Quaker meetings. After meeting for worship ends, people continue in silence for a few more minutes during which they’re invited to share thoughts or reflect on the morning's worship. I’ve adopted the form here for last-day-of-the-month brief reflections on headlines, quotes, comments overheard, maybe even bumper stickers.

Fear and Writing About Faith

In just a few days I’ll make the trek to Whidbey Island for my final residency at the Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA program. This time, I’ll try my hand at teaching as well, collaborating with classmate Cynthia Beach on a workshop— Writing About Faith, Spirituality, and Religion.

Philip Zaleski, editor of The Best American Spiritual Writing series, defines this genre as,

“…poetry or prose that deals with the bedrock of human existence­—why we are here, where we are going, how we can comport ourselves with dignity along the way.”

I carry some fear about writing about faith (see my Feb. 27, 2013 post), and it turns out my co-presenter Cynthia does, too. As we explored ideas about how to discuss these worries, she told me she looked into her box of fears. 

“You keep yours in a box?” I asked.  “What a good idea.”

Next week, we’ll literally pull our fears out of a box to initiate a conversation about what gets in the way of writing about those bedrock issues.

Cheryl Strayed, author of the memoir Wild, tells her writing students, “…the invisible, unwritten last line of every essay should be and nothing was ever the same again. By which I mean the reader should feel the ground shift, if even only a bit, when he or she comes to the end of the essay.  Also there should be something at stake in the writing of it. Or, better yet, everything.”

                                   

Scary stuff.  And yet…

I Know No Other Way

Everything I write

is in service

of making sense,

of shining light

on fears, hopes,

beliefs, questions.

I know of no other way

to map my search

than with a pen

on blank pages.

Afterthought #29 - The Case for Hope in Writing

Early in June I heard the writer, historian, and activist Rebecca Solnit speak at Seattle Arts and Lectures. I left Town Hall Seattle with three of her books and have just finished her essay collection, Men Explain Things to Me.

While the essays focus on some of the ways we continue to wrestle with gender inequality, Solnit also makes a case for hope in writing; I turned over the page corner and underlined this:

“…you don’t know if your actions are futile…you don’t have the memory of the future…the future is indeed dark, which is the best thing it could be…in the end, we always act in the dark. The effects of your actions may unfold in ways you cannot foresee or even imagine. They may unfold long after your death. That is when the words of so many writers often resonate the most.”

On those dark days—so many of them—when I wonder if my work as a writer is of any help in the world, I’ll return to Solnit’s words.

“Afterthoughts” are my blog version of a practice followed in some Quaker meetings. After meeting for worship ends, people continue in silence for a few more minutes during which they’re invited to share thoughts or reflect on the morning's worship. I’ve adopted the form here for last-day-of-the-month brief reflections on headlines, quotes, comments overheard, maybe even bumper stickers.

Taking the Plunge as a Writing Teacher

There are hundreds of reasons I love the Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA Program at the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts. First, there are the forty other students enrolled there, about double that number of alumni, the dozen or so faculty and staff, and the droves of guest faculty who teach at the residencies twice a year. Then there are the thousands of beautiful and inspiring words I’ve read while a student there—many of them written by classmates and teachers. Those are all cause enough to boast about this unique low-residency program, but there’s more. Started by writers, for writers, the Whidbey Writers Workshop is willing to tap its students and alumni to teach classes at the residencies. I’m honored to be included on the schedule in August (writers have until June 15 to register for the residency-only option) as Guest Faculty and to respond to NILA’s…  

FIVE QUESTIONS FOR GUEST FACULTY

1.  What's your favorite thing about teaching writers?

Unlike the Polar Bear Plunge (see the BONUS Question at the end), I’m just dipping my toe in the water of teaching writers. The little bit that I’ve done so far has been invigorating and inspiring, and teaching pushes me to dive deep into the content. Plus, writers are generous and adventurous; I end up learning a ton from them.

2.    How would you suggest students approach a writer, agent, or editor they admire?

Scott Russell Sanders

Plunge in! That’s the advice I received at the very first Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA residency I attended; I was testing the waters (sensing a theme here?) as a residency-only student before I’d applied to the MFA program. Another student encouraged me to talk to guest faculty Scott Russell Sanders, an essayist whose work I adore, and even prompted me about what to say. I was sincere in my questions about writing in this genre, and he was equally sincere (and supportive) in his response.

3.    How about a sneak peek of what we can expect to learn from you in your sessions at Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA?

Throughout history, people have explored questions of faith through music, painting, dance, photography, and writing. In the session Writing About Faith, Spirituality, and Religion, classmate Cynthia Beach and I will examine characteristics of this subgenre, described by Philip Zaleski, editor of America’s Best Spiritual Writing series, as “poetry or prose that deals with the bedrock of human existence.”

We’ll explore examples and publishing opportunities across a wide range of spiritual traditions. The session also will include time for writing and contemplation—something we expect people will welcome on Day 6 of the 9-day residency.

4. Tell us what "literary community" means to you. 

If we’re lucky, there’s a ripple when we cast our words to readers. A literary community, like the one we have at Whidbey, sometimes is a net that gathers us close. Sometimes, it’s a life preserver.

5. When not teaching or working at your “day job," you can be found...

walking my yellow lab/German 

shepherd, Buddy

           making hand-bound journals and

           artists’ books 

                     picking, procuring, preparing and sharing meals with friends and family.

BONUS QUESTION:

The MFA residency includes a FREE POLAR BEAR PLUNGE in which we all jump into the lovely, refreshing waters of the Puget Sound. On a scale of 1-5, with 5 being the most likely, how likely are you to participate?

1 – The way I’m most likely to be in “the lovely, refreshing waters of the Puget Sound” is snug in my kayak, wearing a spray skirt and neoprene gloves. 

However, I rank a 5 on the scale of how likely I am to be on the dock, cheering the swimmers on and handing out dry towels.