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Writing Life

I know it’s only the 21st, but I am already eager to put this month behind me. It’s been another month of ear issues (both ears this month) for Josh and we are not sure exactly what’s going on. We haven’t been able to get his ears stable enough/healthy long enough for even an audiology evaluation since October. He just finished up another course of strong, broad spectrum antibiotics. I have an essay coming out soon in The Mighty that will shed some light on how I feel about our latest run in with antibiotics.

In light of all of this, it is time for some mood-boosting gratitude.

  1. There is an owl living in one of the large pine trees behind my house. I hear him hooting each night at about 5:30 pm (dusk here in Minnesota in January) and sometimes just before dawn. I went out into the woods behind my house on Sunday, with my long wool coat over my PJ’s–it was ten below zero at the time, and I listened just below the tree. I cannot tell you what a singular thrill it is to hear an owl up close. But then, he decided to swoop down on some prey and I saw his wings spread over me (I wasn’t the prey). It will likely be one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life. I feel most protective of this owl and sometimes I fancy the owl is protecting me.
  2. I’ve finally set up my own writing room in the upper level of my house. It is a light, airy space. It is a piece of heaven in my own home.
  3. Trampled by Turtle’s song “Duluth,” which gets me through these cold winters. “Still I like the quiet/Of Duluth in the winter/In the sacred bond/There’s no place like home.”
  4. The rosary. I’m not Catholic, but I’ve had lots of Catholics in my life, including my dad’s whole family. All of my kids have spent time in Catholic schools; now, Josh joins the ranks. He’s learned to pray the rosary. I’m learning too. I’ve thought much about how Mary was acquainted with this experience of watching her child suffer. I feel a kinship with her when I pray the rosary. Although, I’m not sure I’m doing it right, maybe “right” doesn’t matter so much as the act of saying this prayer with a willing heart.
  5. I was given the guidance to get my hands on a copy of Paul Kalanithi’s book When Breath Becomes Air. I elevated this book above the waiting 25 or so books on my “to read” list. I read this book in less than 24 hours; I will read this book again. It is a magnificent, life-changing read. I thank Paul for leaving behind surgery to write before he passed away last March. God be with you, Dr. Kalanithi. You’ve made a huge difference in how I view life, God, vocation, the act of writing, and how I view my son’s doctors and surgeons (I think I wanted them to be small gods–now I realize it can never be so; God can use members of the medical profession, but they will never be perfect, as life will never be perfect).
  6. My thesis project seems to be falling into place, during this second semester of thesis writing; and I have a new blog to support the putting of my thesis out into the world, when it is time. See www.heidifettigparton.com.
  7. I get to see the below view when I leave my local food co-op; even beautiful on cold winter mornings.

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I was nominated by my dear (and long-known) friend, Julie, on Facebook to record three things I am grateful for each day for five days. It’s been sort of a wild and crazy past few days, so instead, I’ve decided to record 15 gratitudes all at once. I have many gratitude lists on this blog and so I’ve decided to change things up a bit today with a photo list. Indeed, thanks to the iPhone, I always have a camera at hand these days and tend to take photos in some of my most grateful moments; moments when I can truly let myself into the overflowing joy and abundance that, while always present, often gets choked out by my affinity for worry and mindless clamoring after the ever-elusive sense of control.

15 Gratitudes:

The Stone Arch Bridge

The Stone Arch Bridge

One: I am immensely grateful that I live in a place where there is such an abundance of accessible green space, even in the heart of the city.

The Guthrie Theater

The Guthrie Theater

Two: I am grateful for the depth and variety of cultural experiences available in the Twin Cities area.

Presiding over the Mill City Farmer's Market

Presiding over the Mill City Farmer’s Market

Three: I am grateful that on any given day from May to October, I can purchase locally-grown organic produce at countless Farmer’s Markets available throughout the Twin Cities area.

They're Always Waiting for me

Four: I am grateful for books. They are always waiting for me, no matter how much time has elapsed since we last had time together.

snow dog

snow dog

Five: I am grateful that I spent so many years in the cold, frozen tundra of North Dakota. Now Minneapolis winters are (mostly) a breeze (except last winter–that was truly a North Dakota kind of winter).

Superior Hiking Trail

Superior Hiking Trail

Six: I am grateful for the preservation of wild places; places where people can hear their soul speak.

From The Minnesota History Center's Currently Running Toy Exhibit

From The Minnesota History Center’s Currently Running Toy Exhibit

Seven: I am grateful that “my past” is now being preserved as history. The Minnesota History Center’s Exhibit on toys from the 50s, 60s, and 70s is extremely well curated and so worth seeing. I hail the efforts of all historic preservationists everywhere.

Wild Flowers

Wild Flowers

Eight: I am grateful that beauty erupts of its own accord. Life is celebrated daily by all of creation. Sometimes, finding this beauty is just a matter of changing one’s point of view. In this photo, if I turned the other way, I’d see a broken old highway.

Cottage Flowers

Cottage Flowers

Nine: I am grateful that we have been given the tools to help cultivate beauty in this world, if we so choose.

Vintage bowling pins and croquet balls.

Vintage bowling pins and croquet balls.

Ten: I am grateful for the thrill of the hunt. Wooded trail or estate sale? Tough decision. Either place, I touch down into the soft, unexposed underside where my dreams, hopes, and greatest love resides.

A Room of One's Own Cottage.

A Room of One’s Own Cottage.

Eleven: I am grateful for this little yellow cottage; a place where my voice has found it’s way to paper this past year.

Olson Family Cabin (photo credit: Tiffany Rae Fettig).

Olson Family Cabin (photo credit: Tiffany Rae Fettig).

Twelve: I am grateful for this little brown cabin that my Grandpa Roy built; a place that contains most of my very best memories (because, like Neil Young, “in my mind I still need a place to go”–from Helpless).

La Jolla, Ca.

La Jolla, Ca.

Thirteen: I am grateful for the deep love I’ve had in my life, as well as the joy found in letting go, repeatedly, of that which I love.

A place where Deaf and Hard of Hearing children learn to listen and speak

A place where Deaf and Hard of Hearing children learn to listen and speak

Fourteen: I am grateful that Minnesota mandated newborn hearing screening by the time Josh was born; I am grateful for early intervention so that now I can hear my four-year old tell me that he “might get carried away and decide to be Darth Vader” this year for Halloween. I am so grateful I get to hear all of the funny little things Josh has to say everyday.

The One (who gets me)

The One (who gets me)

Fifteen: We risked a good deal for this love; in return, it gave us everything. Gratitude.

I’ve been busy this path month. I finished the first draft of my manuscript at 2:05 pm on July 9, 2014–just one day shy of my 44th birthday. At present, the manuscript comes in at just under 100,000 words. I completed the first draft at the itsy-bitsy cabin that I rent on the north shore of Lake Superior. After completing the manuscript, I danced all wild and crazy, alone in my hermitage, to DMB’s cover of Watchtower. I danced to celebrate a goal achieved. I danced all a burn with the fires of creative energy. I’ve worked three years writing this first draft and there were many times I almost quit writing (and I did, sometimes, for months at a time). Even if this particular book never publishes, at least I did it. It is written. The story has been told.

While up north, I was also gathering together the final pieces of my application for graduate school. It’s now official. I begin my MFA in Creative Nonfiction on August 25. Not sure if I’ll begin the editing process before I begin my MFA. I am sure my MFA program will be all encompassing for the next two years and so, if I don’t get back to revising this book until I graduate, it’s okay. I am sure it will end up being a better book for the time spent further developing my writing craft and skills; sculpting my editing and rewriting legs.

Unlike my previous attempt at graduate school in art history (Jan-March 2013), I really believe this is the right program for me at the right moment in my life. My writing never releases me to other endeavors; it’s had me all along. I just had to sit up and recognize that I cannot run from this path. I am both terrified and excited for my encore career. Bring it on.

Gratitude. Immense gratitude.

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