What to Read Today Before the Internet Makes Your Head Explode

What to Read Today Before the Internet Makes Your Head Explode

Aka, 55 books to read to slow yourself down and reimagine yourself as part of the creative, fun, difficult, and beautiful new/old resistance. The story of creating the list follows the list. I’m refusing to organize or categorize this list. The point is to explore, find something important to you, leave the Internet, and go find some books to read!

  1. Man’s Search for Meaning. Viktor Frankl.
  2. The Slave Ship. Marcus Rediker.
  3. The Half has Never Been Told. Edward E. Baptist.
  4. The Civil Disobedience Handbook: A Brief History and Practical Advice for the Politically Disenfranchised. James Tracy, Editor
  5. A Fighting Chance. Elizabeth Warren.
  6. Hot, Flat, and Crowded. Tom Friedman.
  7. Poetry as Insurgent Art. Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
  8. Your Heart Is a Muscle the Size of a Fist. Sunil Yapa.
  9. Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self. Danielle Evans.
  10. Teaching the Cat to Sit. Michelle Theall.
  11. We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For. Alice Walker.
  12. Overcoming Speechlessness. Alice Walker.
  13. Silent Spring. Rachel Carson.
  14. Ishmael. Daniel Quinn.
  15. A Chinamen’s Chance. Eric Liu.
  16. The Other One. Hasanthika Sirisena.
  17. Culture Jam. Kalle Lasn.
  18. Power. Linda Hogan.
  19. Mean Spirit. Linda Hogan.
  20. Solar Storms. Linda Hogan.
  21. Republic of Outsiders. Alissa Quart.
  22. The Twentieth Day of January. Ted Allbeury.
  23. Deceit and Other Possibilities. Vanessa Hua.
  24. Fire Shut Up in My Bones. Charles M. Blow.
  25. Unbought and Unbossed. Shirley Chisholm.
  26. The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010. Lucille Clifton.
  27. Popular Songs: The Political Poems of 1890-1820. Percy Bysshe Shelley.
  28. The Hero With a Thousand Faces. Joseph Cambell.
  29. Women, Race, & Class. Angela Davis.
  30. Don’t Bite the Hook. Pema Chondron .
  31. When Pain is the Doorway. Pema Chondron.
  32. When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times. Pema Chondron.
  33. The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times. Pema Chondron.
  34. The Left Hand of Darkness. Ursula K. Le Guin.
  35. Four Ways to Forgiveness. Ursula K. Le Guin.
  36. Tehanu. Ursula K. Le Guin.
  37. Sun Dogs. Lee Maracle.
  38. Daughters. Lee Maracle.
  39. Ravensong. Lee Maracle.
  40. Perma Red. Debra Magpie Earling.
  41. Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around: Forty Years of Movement Building with Barbara Smith. Edited by Alethia Jones and Virginia Eubanks with Barbara Smith.
  42. Words of Fire: An Anthology of African-American Feminist Thought. Beverly Guy-Sheftall.
  43. Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America. Melissa Harris-Perry.
  44. Divine Rebels: Saints, Mystics, Change Agents – And You. Caroline Myss.
  45. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Audre Lorde.
  46. Wretched of the Earth. Franz Fanon.
  47. Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. Sebastian Junger.
  48. Indian Killer. Sherman Alexie. (to start)
  49. Demand the Impossible. Bill Ayers.
  50. Rules for Radicals. Saul Alinsky.
  51. Ten Days in a Mad-House. Nellie Bly.
  52. India’s Struggle For Independence. Bipin Chandra.
  53. Non-Violent Resistance (Satyagraha). M. K. Gandhi.
  54. Emotional Agility. Susan David.
  55. Why I Am Not A Feminist: A Feminist Manifesto. Jessa Crispin.

 

This week I asked my 500ish online friends for recommendations for books to read. These are people I trust, not strangers. A diverse group, although as a middle aged white woman I know I will always be pushing to do better–no friends with disabilities responded, for example.

I need to get off the Internet more often right now, so that I don’t continue to get sucked into the complete partisan hell circus my country is unleashing every single day at us now. I want to more fully join the new creative, fun, difficult, and beautiful new resistance. Be a better accomplice and friend. I will still be online sometimes. Yet, as a creator I need big infusions of slowing down, resting, listening, wandering, and inspiration to be myself and to do my work well. Outrage helps my work too, but not all outrage all the time. That’s just not me. I’ve aged out of being able to sustain rage. When I don’t demand these other things, I become a reactor, not a creator. I become unrecognizable to myself. I end up sharing “news” that is actually lies. (Yep, I did that just yesterday. Thank God for smart friends who check when in my outrage I forget to!) I don’t think that being just another reactor and tantrum thrower is what we need right now (although I really needed to be that for a while this week). I think we need to remember who we really are. And by “we” I mean me and most of the people I know.

I asked specifically for creative, inspiring, resistance books. Both fiction and non-fiction. This is what I heard back in 3 days! Wow. I forgot what a deeply curious and gloriously book nerdy group of humans my friends are. Yay! The numbers in the list just represent the order in which I received the recommendations from various parts of my online world. I am not categorizing them–the point is to explore the list and find something new and important to you. Personally, since I want to read all these books, I will be reading them out of order in whatever order I can borrow the books from others, check them out of our library, afford to purchase them (some came very highly recommended), and find them personally inspiring. I own the Viktor Frankl book and all the Ursula K. Le Guin books if you live nearby and want to borrow them. Also, if you’re a friend and you notice that we’ve missed a creative resistance book that you love (in our few days of collective online brainstorming), please share it with me and I’ll add it to my reading list.

If you don’t have time to read 53+ resistance books this year, then follow me on FB or Twitter. I will be reading and sharing excerpts from these books online in 2017 and beyond. Trying to recommend specific books for specific friends. And hopefully, one day soon, I’ll find myself writing a book of creative resistance too. But this is not that year for me. This is a year of listening even more closely to my/our ancestors. To all of the people and groups who have already been doing this for a long time. Some for a very long time.

Note: I occasionally update this list with new books as trusted people and authors recommend them to me.

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

Flash poetry (created and shared online in <10 minutes) inspired by an amazingly prolific and resilient researcher friend. I turned a research abstract into a poem on the fly for him. That’s me apparently: nerdy poems on the fly, no waiting. Isn’t life beautiful?

 

Loving to Pieces, Autopoiesis

emergence
resurgence
convergence

moving away
some days
from reduction mind-sets
to dance
with holist approaches

honoring context
squeezing self-organizing systems
loving to pieces, autopoiesis
misty-eyed chaotic systems
tickling multi-agent systems
blushing

running across the field
lighting up aspects and helpers
in understanding emergence

falling down laughing with stories
research and measures
bringing forth
emergent performance
flexibility
to greet agent organization
at your own dawn

researcher releasing
becoming
creator

coming
home

Birth Announcement: Year 1 Poet is here!

Birth Announcement: Year 1 Poet is here!

We would like to announce the arrival of our new baby, aka, our new book, Year 1 Poet.

She was born in paperback form at 2 p.m. on November 30, 2014, weighing 100 pages.

3d Year 1 poet

She is a little genre-bender already. She tells the true story of a writer getting lost and becoming a poet. She also contains 32 poems and 15 beautiful accompanying illustrations. Near the end, she also contains tips for writers becoming poets (tips I had to create for myself to undo my training as a writer) and tips by emerging artists for other emerging artists from both me and her three illustrators (aka, her aunties and uncle).

Starting tomorrow, she will be available at Open Books: A Poem Emporium, my favorite bookstore in Seattle. She’s also available on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com. She’ll be available on Whidbey Island soon too.

We intended to get this announcement out weeks ago, when she first arrived in the world, but we were swamped with new-book-parent things. She keeps us up at night, planning for and imagining her future. She keeps us scurrying here and there, learning how to create e-book and audio book forms, how to best share her with the world, and meeting local book sellers.

Here’s me—exhausted, unkempt, and glowing—holding her for the first time. Notice that her professional-photographer father was so excited that he forgot entirely about proper lighting. Oh well, if book parenthood is about anything at all, it’s about humility, about not being able to do it all, and about falling more deeply in love with yourselves: eye bags, unwashed hair, and all.

Year 1 Poet and Lori

Her auntie Tabitha made a whole bunch of birth announcements for us in the form of postcards, e-postcards, flyers, and bookmarks. Thanks Tabitha! Distant friends, you’ll see them on social media for the next month. Forgive our oversharing. We really love her and we think everything she does is adorable and world-changing. Nearby friends, you may encounter her birth announcements on community boards, in coffee shops, and in bookstores.

bookmark

 

In lieu of cards and gifts, please purchase a copy for yourself or friends, write a review on Amazon.com or Goodreads (her baby books), and/or tell those you love about her so they can find her for themselves. Thank you so much for your support. We couldn’t do this without you.

bookmark1

 

 

A Travel Guide for Transitions – now in hard copy!

A Travel Guide for Transitions – now in hard copy!

I’m excited to announce that the hard copy of A Travel Guide for Transitions is now available on Amazon. Woo hoo!

The book has 45 full-color illustrations accompanying the stories and quotes from our journey…

Pages

Here is their proud father…

Photo 16-08-13 16 20 49

We also just made four promotional postcards for the book featuring mini-me and mini-Bas from the book. If you live in the Seattle, USA or Zandvoort, The Netherlands areas, and would like some of these awesome postcards to share with others, give us a shout and we’ll get them to you. We crazy self-publishing types need all the help we can get!

postcard postcard postcard postcard

How to find Oddball Empire

How to find Oddball Empire

Bas did a really brave thing this week.

And given that he is so beautifully Dutch–reserved and humble and whatever the opposite of self-centered is—he would never toot his own horn about this. But I’m an American, dammit. My friend deserves a bit of frickin’ horn tooting.

For years, Bas researched, wrote, spoke, and breathed project management. He worked as a PM. I’m certain that he got things done more efficiently and better and faster and all those other things PMs care about. And his blog, the Project Shrink, was very popular in PM-land. He had those thousands and thousands of followers that most other bloggers secretly long for.

But he grew weary of his expertise. Tired of the PM box he’d built for himself.

Over the past few years, Bas has been moving in new directions: trying on different hats.

His Project Shrink blog eventually became Shrinkonia, the name of his own created-via-imagination country, as he embraced more of his true, PM-box-smashing self.

He’s been Project Ethnographer. Story Home Builder. Geographer-at-Large. Story Wrangler. And Writer that Draws.

And all the while, he’s been studying and talking about what he himself is doing: from the struggle to answer the question “what do you do?” to letting go and savoring transitions, from storytelling to map making, from identity crises to recovering your sense of direction.

Growing ever more playful, lately he’s also been Wile E Coyote. Metaphor Man. Faux Travolta. And The Guru. And my personal two favorites—At Dawn We Ride guy and fellow wandering Chicken Pirate—both of whom feel most like the fun, smart, brave spirit that I spend time with and know best.

Me and BasHis shadow side shows up too. Often in Darwin, his snarky blog who calls him a Hippie and Sherlock and Sparky, lest he get so far out into woo-woo land that he can’t ever catch the boat back to Normalsville.

I don’t think anyone has told him yet that that ship has sailed.

Personally, I keep waiting for the day The Dude shows up, a version of Bas from one of his favorite movies.

But I digress.

Everything that Bas has been doing the past few years is brave. However, what happened this week is bravery of the highest degree.

Bas removed all of the PM books and PM talks from his Web site.

Those last links to his former professional self.

Gone.

By his own hand.

In Lori Land, bravery doesn’t get much more impressive than this.

This is believing that your world will reward you, eventually, for being the real you.

This is believing in your quirky self and quirky ship mates, even in the face of your fears.

And despite the fact that what you’re doing is so very different from what the rest of the world seems to be doing. And what the old you did.

Believing even in the face of your own loud and snarky shadow-side voice. Walking away from the boxes of the corporate world, the boxes that you yourself helped build and that you yourself must tear down. Walking away from dreary work that you know people will pay you for toward creative play/work that far fewer people may recognize as valuable, at least at first.

This is walking your walk.

Dancing your dance.

Disco-ing your duck.

When people learn what I do for a living, and that my creative partner lives on a different continent, many ask me how Bas and I met and how we ended up working together.

I usually tell the long story, as is my way, that involves him writing about my blog, new-blogger-me being so thrilled that I offered to do his laundry for him, and how we started talking regularly via our blogs until we decided to work together on our first book.

I now see the shorter story.

I knew the moment I met Bas that he was doing exactly what I was trying to do: creating worlds in which who we really are—the whole quirky, smart, oddball us—is terrific. And documenting the journey as we go in case our experience proves useful to others.

Together, it seems, we’re finding those worlds. First Shrinkonia, then Lori Land, and now Oddball Empire: a whole real world of quirky, brave souls that were here all along, patiently waiting for us to trust ourselves completely, do what we’re called to do, and join the fun.

My advice now for anyone trying to find Oddball Empire is simple…

Find the person who hears your crazy story for getting there, jumps on the tricycle next to yours, tilts his/her paper hat into the wind, and shouts “At Dawn We Ride!” Stick together.

Everything else you can invent as you go.

We Are Not Strangers

We Are Not Strangers

My Grandma Del passed away last week. It was the day before my 43rd birthday, and about 2 months before her 88th birthday.

She was the last of my living grandparents. When Daniel called me to break the news to me, he woke me up, and the first thought that flitted across my just-waking mind was “Oh my God, I’m an orphan.” This made me smile later, through my sadness.

My sister Jen and I flew back to South Dakota and then drove 2½ hours into the northeast corner of the state to join the rest of our family to mourn our loss and to celebrate her life.

In the past 10 years I’ve lost my two other grandparents, Daniel’s grandparents, several friends, and several dogs and cats who were family too. I’m no longer the stranger to death that I was when my grandpa passed away 10 years ago. This time it felt like I was holding hands with my sadness, which meant that this time, in most moments, I could still receive the gifts of the present.

For example, this time I could notice how much good was still all around us.

I was conscious and curious about how previous versions of our family, and me, moved through difficult and sad times and how the right-now-us, and me, were moving through this one.

It felt like I was moving through my individual sadness and into gratitude for family and warm memories more easily and quickly this time.

I felt a tiny bit more present in the moment to comfort others and a teeny bit less like I was drowning in my own sadness this time.

I felt more comfortable saying goodbye at the viewing and crying with my entire family around me. I now know what my tears are, and I am rightly proud of them, and us, not ashamed.

I wasn’t entirely comfortable, but I was more comfortable than before. And I felt truly there, and truly blessed to be there.

Until the morning of the funeral.

When we arrived, the chapel was jam-packed full of people I didn’t know. Strangers to me, this rural town I visit just once each summer as an adult. My parents, Jen, and I were led to a separate room where all the rest of our family was. We learned that the four of us would walk into the chapel following the casket, because my mom is the oldest of her six siblings. Learned that everyone else would follow in behind us.

The thought of walking through that huge room of strangers, while vulnerable and crying, and not being able to see the rest of my family, terrified me.

I thought briefly of suggesting that we instead file in in order from tallest to shortest so that I could be at the end. Or alphabetically, so that I could at least be somewhere in the middle. Saying these things out loud didn’t feel appropriate to the moment, but the humor of the thoughts did make me feel a little better.

And as we walked into the chapel, for a few moments I was right. It felt awful to be following my beloved Grandma Del, in a casket, down a long aisle, and through a large room full of strangers. Too exposed. I felt lonely, then angry. My judgmental self showed up momentarily with the thought “This was poorly planned.” Ah, silly, silly girl.

Because then they began to sing. As we walked, heads down in silence, they sang Amazing Grace to us, around us, for us, and my whole world shifted.

I actually looked up at their faces. I even saw a few people that I knew. And in a couple of the strangers’ faces, I saw more tears and I saw pain that appeared deep, in some cases deeper than my own. And just like that, I was back to grateful. Back to blessed.

This community—my grandmother’s community—was completely surrounding our family with love. They were hugging us. Lifting us up. Demonstrating that we were more connected to each other, and to the entire town and surrounding area, than we’d remembered. Well, than I’d remembered anyway.

It’s funny. As a non-church goer, I don’t actually remember a word of the service or which Bible verses were read or any of the sermon that followed. I just don’t connect with words written thousands of years ago and with lectures and lessons from strangers, especially strangers on high.

During the service I mostly thought about all the flowers and plants sent by friends. I thought about putting the photo boards together with family the day before and about other fun things we’ve done as a family. Thought about my grandma’s house and yard and garden and holidays. I touched hands and shoulders and passed tissues to crying relatives.

And then I shut my eyes and felt the hundred or so rural, mostly conservative, mostly religious, farmers and townsfolk, sitting behind us, feeling our pain and crying our tears with us.

I thought about how they’d been singing to comfort all of us, including West coast city-dwelling, progressive, liberal, non-church-going, me.

We humans are not strangers.

How had I forgotten that?

We are not strangers.

As we moved out into the warm wind and June sunshine of the beautiful old Lily cemetary, my broken heart was at peace.

 

Grandma Del’s community,

thank you for the reminder I needed

at the exact moment I needed it.

You will not, cannot, be strangers to me again.

Rest in peace, Grandma Del.

We love you.

Grandma and me