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The cursor just sat
there blinking in front of me on an empty document, only I wasn’t in
front of my computer. I was visualizing my laptop whilst driving
south on Highway 52 during my journey homeward. To complete the
troika, I also grabbed a Kindergartener-gage marker (purple of
course) and scratched random words, phrases and symbols on the notebook
lodged between me and my lovely sleeping teenaged daughter. If
multi-tasking should ever morph into a felony, I dare say I shall
enjoy my meals from a cell in some far away Alcatraz,
knowing I fought the good fight.
My darling daughter,
of 14 years, accompanied me to the 13th Annual International Women’s
Day Celebration at the Coffman Memorial Union at the U of M, Minneapolis.
This inspirational congregation of thick-souled
people was presented by The Advocates for Human Rights as well as the
Human Rights Program at the U of M.
Myriad booths bordered the Great Hall and spilled gloriously
out into the commons area, which was apropos, in that each of us
there shared the common appreciation for the greatness of others,
while inviting their gifts to spill upon us. To educate us. To enrich
us.
After a long
adventurous day in Minneapolis,
my pinball game had just tilted. My tired mind was busy compiling and
debugging sentence fragments, popping kernels of mental corn all over
the floor of my brain and relentlessly reshuffling a cerebral deck of
highly valuable cards. There is always a feeling I get when
inspiration strikes- that of not knowing if the words that are
seeping out of my thoughts at random intervals, will still be there
when I finally have time to type them into a document or write them
on a napkin somewhere. During childbirth, there is a well-known
critical juncture where the attending medical staff tells you to stop
pushing as they clear air passages, remove a misplaced umbilical cord
and prepare the baby for final passage from one world to the next.
But all you want to do is push in the most involuntary way. Somehow,
somewhere you muster all energy within you and wait until the time is
right for that final surge to bring forth something never before
known. There is an element of panic, coupled with an unparalleled
determination to do the job right.
That is what writing and exploring this world has become for
me – new life.
Nearing
migraine-threshold in my frantic inner-journaling, we stopped for warm
food and lazy regaling in Rochester.
Over pasta and iced-tea, my daughter and I thanked each other for
having been each other’s partner in crime for the day’s awe-inspiring
gathering. I had been reminded of my mercenary driving tactics upon
our departure as we laughed together. Hey – who knew that one-ways
applied to everybody…whatever!
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The people we
encountered at the celebration were as vibrant as the brightly
colored fair trade textiles for sale in the vendor booths. I say
people, as there were also some wonderful men there to champion the
women in their lives. Engrossing were the dialogs and breakout
sessions, so much so that at the end of both the morning and
afternoon discussions, I was left with that old incredible urge to
push. Knowing there was much more to ponder, I resisted the
temptation to begin writing on my arm or anything else handy. I had
to linger at the Rituals booth to detoxify myself and slow my
spinning thoughts. Thank you, Antoinette, for bringing me back to Earth
for awhile.
To make short work of
a long day, listed below are links to each piece of literature we
received. We were not able to visit with each contributor in
attendance, but we certainly gave it a good go!
Submitted by Staff
Writer
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