Wow. In fact, another one: Wow. Respect, Jeannine. Lots of it. This is magnificent in word and ideology.
I feel a sense of kindred spirit-ness; teaching/words/sociology as spiritual, by which I mean a connection to something larger but very much of this world, of the collective, and the "I's" place in the "we." And oh, man, all of the prisons. I'm slow reading this book, IMAGINATIONS: A MANIFESTO, and starting last week, each small, in class exercise I'm having my students do, now ends with an "imagination" prompt, asking them to think/write their way into a different kind future, and then to think about the ways they can start acting like they live in that future today.
Rebecca Solnit said, "what we dream of is already present in the world," and I see that in the you and the we that is in this post.
There are too many books. Sometimes, it is overwhelming that there are too many books. I am so glad that there are too many books. I'd much rather live in a world with too many books.
Is this book by Ruha Benjamin? I saw another book with a very similar title by another author, Ted something...the one by Ruha looks right up my street!
It is the book by Ruha Benjamin! I'm loving it...not super far into it though, because I keep having ideas that distract me while reading, so I'm only reading a few pages at a time...lol.
Jeannine, here's what reaches the depths of my soul about your writing: that you speak of what is sacred, of meaning and purpose, of paradox and change. You write about what it means to be human--unabashedly, intentionally--and you remind me so often when I open my inbox that every speck of my existence serves some purpose. I have always believed that, anyway, yet I have learned recently of those who do not think much about what this human life is all about--where it's leading, what it all means.
For some reason, since I was about five years old (one of my early autobiographical memories), I have pondered this very question: Why am I here? What good can I do with my life?
So, what I am saying today is that it is a relief--it's honestly like this giant exhale for me when I read your posts--to see there is another human whose voice is being heard and read and widely shared who sees things as I do, who shares my need to give what only I can give to those who need it most. Thank you for that.
Jeannine, thank you. Brilliant. Inspiring. Some of the finest words I've ever read. Yet "finest" seems at odds with the very primal intense response these words evoke. Thankyou.
This is so familiar to me. I performed in a number of prisons and youth lock-up facilities here and in WA state. Shakopee Women's Prison was an incredibly painful place because, let's face it, many of those women were there because of the men in their lives. Jeannine writes of how hard it is to move through security. I performed many years ago at the Twin Rivers Correctional Institute in Monroe, WA. I had been invited to perform my one-woman play about father/daughter incest before 160 rapists and pedophiles. Fortunately, I had a convoy of ten women join me as I faced men who had done unspeakable things to women and children. We had all agreed to background checks before performance day, but as always, we had to do a lot of waiting when we got there. Then we ran into a bit of a snag. Part of my set was a replica of a small house covered on three sides with painted canvas. The home’s frame was held together by lead piping. Bells went off when the guards discovered this potential weaponry. We had to reassure them that the pipes are completely covered; the men would have no idea they were there. Finally, we moved through the facility, doors locking behind us. Doors locking us in with all those men. It was one of the most surreal experiences during my career as an actor. And, yes, I got triggered. But I was surrounded by those protective women. Today, those working with Jeannine are so lucky to have her brave the conditions of prison work. At least a few of them will come away changed through their writing.
Wow I’m glad you were able to get your set piece in. I always assure myself I’m more than the worst thing I’ve ever done and for that reason I elect not to know (or even think about) what my students were convicted for — in that way I’m able to meet them simply as writers. I share that not to contradict or minimize in any way your experience with incarcerated audiences, or being triggered. It’s very complicated work and I am so glad for your voice.
I keep starting and stopping, trying to find words to convey just how I feel reading this today.. a whole body YES! EXACTLY ALL OF THIS! Is what is moving through and swirling around inside me. You make me want to be a better writer and human. Immensely grateful for the keys you provide. Xoxo
This is truly remarkable and inspiring, Jeannine. I recently read a book on Soren Kirkegaard's idea of finitude, Camping With Kirkegaard by J. Aaron Simmons. The author points out that Kirkegaard's idea of our personal finitude is a common thought amongst other philosophies and religions--our passions will lead us to doing those things that give our lives the most meaning and that meaning ultimately reveals itself as service to others, the love of others. The time, care and love you pour into your prison work is definitely the fruit of passion. So beautiful, Jeannine.
“I am here to write and teach.” Yup! Thank you for conveying teaching and writing and a calling to both so beautifully. I knew you taught in prisons but I had no idea it took eight hours to teach a two hour class. That is a pretty amazing commitment.
What an exquisite and beautiful piece of writing - in word and in heart and spirit, thank you for giving of yourself. Your devotion to craft is a devotion to service and Calling.
Oh Jeannine! Thank you for your beautiful, giving spirit and all that you bring into the world! As I was reading your essay, tears formed in acknowledgment of just how fortunate we all are to be here with you. And to know all you are juggling/managing/creating right now(the prison course, your weekly Substack, launching WITD school not to mention the recent loss of your estranged father), I am in awe. ❤️
And I am grateful for your words here: “All the prisons. Including the invisible ones we build ourselves. Prisons fashioned from warped, discarded words and crooked stories, from barbed wire of misperceptions and the stiff leather of our blinders, from the collapsed caves of false beliefs and the cracked concrete of lost wonder, lost awe, and lost joy at the simple but miraculous possibility, beauty, and power of one word after another.” Here’s to becoming our own wardens as we release ourselves from our internal prisons. As we craft stories, we give ourselves back the keys. ❤️
Reading your experience of walking through those metal detectors, the badges, the hassle of using a bathroom… this all felt like the constraints of my corporate world. Handcuffed somewhere. Different and the same.
And I can't unsee the mess of the glitter art as I wipe up yogurt and oatmeal from the floor after my baby emulates Picasso with his breakfast.
Thank you for teaching, all of us, in whatever prisons we are in. Xoxo
I feel like I am getting to know your baby as we travel through the days here, Lindsey, and it's just so magical after our time together in Troncones, your writing, the Ada Limon poem, all of it. It's amazing.
Wow. In fact, another one: Wow. Respect, Jeannine. Lots of it. This is magnificent in word and ideology.
I feel a sense of kindred spirit-ness; teaching/words/sociology as spiritual, by which I mean a connection to something larger but very much of this world, of the collective, and the "I's" place in the "we." And oh, man, all of the prisons. I'm slow reading this book, IMAGINATIONS: A MANIFESTO, and starting last week, each small, in class exercise I'm having my students do, now ends with an "imagination" prompt, asking them to think/write their way into a different kind future, and then to think about the ways they can start acting like they live in that future today.
Rebecca Solnit said, "what we dream of is already present in the world," and I see that in the you and the we that is in this post.
I love that Solnit quote, I love how you think and teach, and I am grateful for the book recommendation!
There are too many books. Sometimes, it is overwhelming that there are too many books. I am so glad that there are too many books. I'd much rather live in a world with too many books.
Ha same on all counts.
Is this book by Ruha Benjamin? I saw another book with a very similar title by another author, Ted something...the one by Ruha looks right up my street!
It is the book by Ruha Benjamin! I'm loving it...not super far into it though, because I keep having ideas that distract me while reading, so I'm only reading a few pages at a time...lol.
I have ordered and cannot wait. Have you also come across the d.school book called creative acts for curious people? Also great but very distracting!
I have not, but I am looking it up now, thanks!
Jeannine, here's what reaches the depths of my soul about your writing: that you speak of what is sacred, of meaning and purpose, of paradox and change. You write about what it means to be human--unabashedly, intentionally--and you remind me so often when I open my inbox that every speck of my existence serves some purpose. I have always believed that, anyway, yet I have learned recently of those who do not think much about what this human life is all about--where it's leading, what it all means.
For some reason, since I was about five years old (one of my early autobiographical memories), I have pondered this very question: Why am I here? What good can I do with my life?
So, what I am saying today is that it is a relief--it's honestly like this giant exhale for me when I read your posts--to see there is another human whose voice is being heard and read and widely shared who sees things as I do, who shares my need to give what only I can give to those who need it most. Thank you for that.
Yes — what only you can, only I can, only all of us can. I do think that’s part of the key.
That's what I meant - that you support each of us doing what only each of us can do. I don't think my last line was very clear on that point. 😬
I want to second every word that you wrote here. Very well said, Jeannie.
Jeannine, thank you. Brilliant. Inspiring. Some of the finest words I've ever read. Yet "finest" seems at odds with the very primal intense response these words evoke. Thankyou.
This is so kind. Thank you, Melanie ❤️
This is so familiar to me. I performed in a number of prisons and youth lock-up facilities here and in WA state. Shakopee Women's Prison was an incredibly painful place because, let's face it, many of those women were there because of the men in their lives. Jeannine writes of how hard it is to move through security. I performed many years ago at the Twin Rivers Correctional Institute in Monroe, WA. I had been invited to perform my one-woman play about father/daughter incest before 160 rapists and pedophiles. Fortunately, I had a convoy of ten women join me as I faced men who had done unspeakable things to women and children. We had all agreed to background checks before performance day, but as always, we had to do a lot of waiting when we got there. Then we ran into a bit of a snag. Part of my set was a replica of a small house covered on three sides with painted canvas. The home’s frame was held together by lead piping. Bells went off when the guards discovered this potential weaponry. We had to reassure them that the pipes are completely covered; the men would have no idea they were there. Finally, we moved through the facility, doors locking behind us. Doors locking us in with all those men. It was one of the most surreal experiences during my career as an actor. And, yes, I got triggered. But I was surrounded by those protective women. Today, those working with Jeannine are so lucky to have her brave the conditions of prison work. At least a few of them will come away changed through their writing.
Wow I’m glad you were able to get your set piece in. I always assure myself I’m more than the worst thing I’ve ever done and for that reason I elect not to know (or even think about) what my students were convicted for — in that way I’m able to meet them simply as writers. I share that not to contradict or minimize in any way your experience with incarcerated audiences, or being triggered. It’s very complicated work and I am so glad for your voice.
I keep starting and stopping, trying to find words to convey just how I feel reading this today.. a whole body YES! EXACTLY ALL OF THIS! Is what is moving through and swirling around inside me. You make me want to be a better writer and human. Immensely grateful for the keys you provide. Xoxo
I want to be a better writer & human too. Glad to be walking that path with you, Mesa ❤️
Same: definitely in terms of wanting to be a better writer and human.
Oh. Yes. That’s why I write. And why I’ve enrolled in WITD: THE SCHOOL. because I have a lot to learn and you have so much to teach. Thank you.
This is truly remarkable and inspiring, Jeannine. I recently read a book on Soren Kirkegaard's idea of finitude, Camping With Kirkegaard by J. Aaron Simmons. The author points out that Kirkegaard's idea of our personal finitude is a common thought amongst other philosophies and religions--our passions will lead us to doing those things that give our lives the most meaning and that meaning ultimately reveals itself as service to others, the love of others. The time, care and love you pour into your prison work is definitely the fruit of passion. So beautiful, Jeannine.
Oh I love this, Steve. Thank you, it’s such illuminating context for things I’ve been thinking about!
Chills and tears reading this. “All the prisons” and those bejeweled messes. All of it. What a beautiful instrument you are.
Thank you, Emily 🙏❤️🙏
Xoxo
Yes, Emily, wasn't that a powerful metaphor?
Just everything
Magnificent, Jeannine! A beautify testimony of words and of life itself! Thank you!
Oh, thank you so much, Lyn ❤️
“Prisons fashioned from warped, discarded words and crooked stories, from barbed wire of misperceptions and the stiff leather of our blinders”
What a beautiful piece Jeanine, a testament to the extraordinary generous and loving person you are! Honoured to learn from you! 🙏🏼
“I am here to write and teach.” Yup! Thank you for conveying teaching and writing and a calling to both so beautifully. I knew you taught in prisons but I had no idea it took eight hours to teach a two hour class. That is a pretty amazing commitment.
What an exquisite and beautiful piece of writing - in word and in heart and spirit, thank you for giving of yourself. Your devotion to craft is a devotion to service and Calling.
Oh Jeannine! Thank you for your beautiful, giving spirit and all that you bring into the world! As I was reading your essay, tears formed in acknowledgment of just how fortunate we all are to be here with you. And to know all you are juggling/managing/creating right now(the prison course, your weekly Substack, launching WITD school not to mention the recent loss of your estranged father), I am in awe. ❤️
And I am grateful for your words here: “All the prisons. Including the invisible ones we build ourselves. Prisons fashioned from warped, discarded words and crooked stories, from barbed wire of misperceptions and the stiff leather of our blinders, from the collapsed caves of false beliefs and the cracked concrete of lost wonder, lost awe, and lost joy at the simple but miraculous possibility, beauty, and power of one word after another.” Here’s to becoming our own wardens as we release ourselves from our internal prisons. As we craft stories, we give ourselves back the keys. ❤️
Reading your experience of walking through those metal detectors, the badges, the hassle of using a bathroom… this all felt like the constraints of my corporate world. Handcuffed somewhere. Different and the same.
And I can't unsee the mess of the glitter art as I wipe up yogurt and oatmeal from the floor after my baby emulates Picasso with his breakfast.
Thank you for teaching, all of us, in whatever prisons we are in. Xoxo
I feel like I am getting to know your baby as we travel through the days here, Lindsey, and it's just so magical after our time together in Troncones, your writing, the Ada Limon poem, all of it. It's amazing.
And then there's the prison of our own making. Thanks for this one Jeannine.