An update as to my whereabouts.
Reposted from my newsletter (subscribe).
The last workshop I held was called "Multiculturalism as Poetic Mosaic" at the Billie Jean King Long Beach Public Library for the Youth Poet Laureate Program in December. Before that, I hosted a free 6-week writing workshop called "Poetry for Self-Expression" in partnership with Angels Gate Cultural Center as a part of my year-long Artists at Work residency—all the way back in the summer!
2022 was actually a difficult year for me, so I was not as active in community leadership as usual. As we all know, writing is a reflection of life, and life must be lived in order to have anything to write about. I was so fortunate to have the financial support of the Artists at Work residency because it allowed me a year of rest. Since I discovered the poetry community in 2013, I have been excessively active in writing, teaching, hosting (often for free) and trying to make a life in the arts. I like to say I spent 10 years in hustle mode, so I deserved a year of rest. Not to mention, because of my personal circumstances, I have been in survival mode since I was a child.
So, finally, I had downtime to reflect, consider, and mostly just be. I had to un-learn the belief that my value was predicated on my productivity (thanks, Capitalism!). In fact, I didn't write much. What did I do all year? Of course I was fulfilling my duties as an Artist at Work and did some really fun programming with them, including teaching poetry to kids after school and running Poems & Produce in the Wilmington community garden. I had my book accepted for publication so I worked on that.
But outside of that, I think I mostly just took walks, meditated, and spiraled into existential boredom. I read recently that existential boredom is necessary for the creative impulse to strike, and boy did I go deep into existential reflection. I was questioning my purpose and meaning in life, not to mention the severe planetary crises facing us now. "Crisis as normal" you could say. How do we live with all of that? How do we hold crisis and hope at the same time? Was the human race really doomed, bringing down so many other species with us? These questions (as the topics of my book as well) plagued me. I had to determine where I stood in the face of all of it. What was I willing to believe, what was I willing to sacrifice, what was I willing to change, what was I willing to do in service to the web of life?
It also seemed like whatever I tried to begin ended up not working out. I almost started hosting a poetry open mic, but that didn't pan out for me. I started working on a family history project, but the second recording of an interview with my father didn't save! I was writing but not interested in anything I was writing. I followed the signs and just let myself give away all pre-conceived notions of what my life was supposed to be. I grieved all that was lost during the pandemic, emotions that perhaps I had suppressed while I was actively in survival and stress mode (who wasn't??). Not to mention, I was experimenting with new medication for my mental health and fighting through some severe depression. I attended many healing workshops online and I just kept getting through each day, grateful for the support of my spiritual community, family, partner, patrons, and friends.
I ended up being a part of a wonderful project called Behind the Mask, which brought together artists of various disciplines to write short scenes for the stage and then we performed our original pieces to a live audience! That really helped shake me out of my malaise. Then, I started painting. And riding my bike. I returned to bellydance class. Started cooking more. Rekindled some friendships. Started going to the Unitarian Universalist church! Started attending more online workshops as a student. Started drawing. Dabbled in fiction. And I took on a leadership role as the Hub Coordinator for the Sunrise Movement in Long Beach, a youth-led climate organization.
I was missing community, and I had to find it again. I was bored of poetry and had to find other ways of expressing myself. I had to seek out new avenues of fulfillment in my life. I am reminded again that the life of an artist takes many winding turns. I never really know what the next step will be, what I will be drawn towards, what new directions life has in store for me. I operate as a servant to my callings, and in 2022, I had to let go of all notions of who I was in the past in order to step into who I was becoming.
(Regarding environmentalism, I am changing constantly. I had to fight past the resistance to change! As a household, we are taking alternative modes of transportation like walking, biking, and busing rather than driving, we have a garden and a compost system, we eat way less meat, and we are now trying to get into the habit of buying products that are more sustainably produced, not to mention as an organization, Sunrise Long Beach is determined to get Long Beach to quit oil production.)
What does this mean for Surprise the Line? To be honest, I'm not sure. My interests are aligning around eco-poetry and solarpunk. In fact, I'll be teaching a workshop with CSU Channel Islands in April on solarpunk, the literary genre that imagines a future where humans, technology, and nature exist in harmony. If it goes well, I might be able to replicate it.
But the honest truth is that as much as I love running Surprise the Line and I love offering free and donation-based workshops, it is so much work on my own for not enough money. That's the real truth. If I wanted to really grow it out into a full-fledged organization, I would need lots of time, dedication, commitment, consistency, and a team. Just look at what The Poetry Lab and The Poetry Salon are doing! I know what kind of resources they put into their business, and I'm not sure that I'm fully committed to leading that level of expansion. So I am keeping Surprise the Line open as an avenue for me to teach classes and workshops when inspiration strikes.
Right now, I am being called deeper into climate activism and toward my own writing and art projects. That doesn't mean I won't ever host another workshop, but I've decided I can't run Surprise the Line as a full business, more of a side project that is personally interesting to me and not about making money. That feels good and right. I see poetry as a spiritual endeavor anyway, so I would like to keep my offerings free or donation-based. I don't want to transition into a paid business model. There is plenty of that already out there. There are TONS of literary organizations that offer classes, and of course the MFA.
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! I feel a deep love and loyalty to everyone who has been with me either on my personal writing journey or as a part of the Surprise the Line community. Do we ever really know what life is going to do next? I'm in a state of open, curious discovery.
Much love,
Nancy