This was sublime, and you're a damn find reader of your own work.
A thing I hadn't considered much until listening to this right now: how those connections we make with others can also *pull* (or maybe push - the "demanding and ruthless" bit you mention). I definitely feel that compulsion to story, but also, if I was left to my own devices and accountable only to myself, too many of my tendencies to laziness and procrastination and distraction and self-doubt might win the day, and I'd talk myself out of getting anything done, or just fritter the opportunity away by default. But staying accountable, feeling pulled by that expectation, that's a part of the momentum I need to produce. (I didn't have it with my old blog, and I lost the ability to publish anything, and I bet that lack of accountability was a factor.) Sometimes it's a frustrating part of the process, but also it's fruitful.
However important (some part of me now shrieking LOL) my writing is in a general sense, I definitely feel it's providing a service - a feeling helped along by, you know, paying subscribers, and all that. But I'm here to deliver on a demand. There's a pull there, pulling me forward, and away from the suction of my own bad tendencies, until *smacking sound like rubber boot being yanked out of thick mud* suddenly waddayaknow I've got something to publish. That's...a good thing? As long as it's managed, and the ego producing it is, too...
Oh my, yes: “Stories can break empires; they can tell our hearts we’re not alone. They make us laugh. They make us grateful to be alive.” Thank you as always, Nia!
I listened to this after reading & have to say that all the extras on the recording are so beautiful. I love hearing you talk about ice while, from my perspective, I’m driving down U street in Washington DC, which is an area filled with nightclubs and bars and restaurants, and a big group of men on motorcycles pulled up in front of everyone waiting at the light — they were getting ready to block traffic pulling their handlebars way back and going up on one wheel and other such tricks. I was right behind them & the rider at the back kept glancing at me to make sure I wasn’t getting impatient & wasn’t going to try to crowd them or honk or anything. And I was trying to signal to him, nah, man, it’s fine, y’all take all the time you want, I’m learning why we create back here, I’m imagining foggy mornings and walks to school in the cold and the years I fell in love.
Beautiful piece and poem. Yes, I've had these thoughts. And my "soul bowing ” in awe of some wild creature, catching my breath and watching as quietly as possible. Thanks.
That was beautiful, Antonia. I love reading (or listening to) your thoughts and ruminations. This was the right thing for me to read last night before fading into sweet oblivion.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
Your writing and thoughts has made my life a little bit better, a little bit happier, and a little bit more joyful. So thank you for that. This does count.
I saw this come in last night, but saved it for this morning when I could have a proper listen with my morning coffee. I loved hearing your thoughts on writing. While we write to tell story, I love that you bring up the value of writing just to show the beauty in the world and to connect with another soul over it. And then embody it.
I'm planning on being in Spokane next week, winter and passes willing. I'm sorry to have missed you.
I felt so shocked reading that you hadn't seen the moon in some time, I take for granted my usually cloudless nights here in Florida. I found myself looking up at her full beauty often this last week, she was really outdoing herself!! I kept thinking, how many people have stopped to acknowledge her beauty today, right now, perhaps in this moment? That human connection, those soul bows as you so rightly called them, is so beautiful. Thank you for writing this!
Nia, first of all tight hugs for whatever it is that is weighing on you. I am thinking of you as I brew some tea. Have some when you can.
Second, wow! You have encapsulated the essence of being a writer here with all that is ongoing around you right now with such eloquence. If writing ever left you never to return, we will be so god awfully broken - all your readers. I can feel all your aches and wonder for the world around you. I am just here to tell you thank you for doing it for us, thank you for writing and creating this beautiful community of love, warmth, support, and acceptance. I found home here, alongside you. 💜🌼🤗
Always a pleasure to hear your voice, Antonia, nice pictures, take care of yourself too 😊
This was sublime, and you're a damn find reader of your own work.
A thing I hadn't considered much until listening to this right now: how those connections we make with others can also *pull* (or maybe push - the "demanding and ruthless" bit you mention). I definitely feel that compulsion to story, but also, if I was left to my own devices and accountable only to myself, too many of my tendencies to laziness and procrastination and distraction and self-doubt might win the day, and I'd talk myself out of getting anything done, or just fritter the opportunity away by default. But staying accountable, feeling pulled by that expectation, that's a part of the momentum I need to produce. (I didn't have it with my old blog, and I lost the ability to publish anything, and I bet that lack of accountability was a factor.) Sometimes it's a frustrating part of the process, but also it's fruitful.
However important (some part of me now shrieking LOL) my writing is in a general sense, I definitely feel it's providing a service - a feeling helped along by, you know, paying subscribers, and all that. But I'm here to deliver on a demand. There's a pull there, pulling me forward, and away from the suction of my own bad tendencies, until *smacking sound like rubber boot being yanked out of thick mud* suddenly waddayaknow I've got something to publish. That's...a good thing? As long as it's managed, and the ego producing it is, too...
Writing is very, very weird.
Oh my, yes: “Stories can break empires; they can tell our hearts we’re not alone. They make us laugh. They make us grateful to be alive.” Thank you as always, Nia!
I love your writing and photos and the glimpses into a life so far away and different. And I love that poem too, thank you for sharing.
I listened to this after reading & have to say that all the extras on the recording are so beautiful. I love hearing you talk about ice while, from my perspective, I’m driving down U street in Washington DC, which is an area filled with nightclubs and bars and restaurants, and a big group of men on motorcycles pulled up in front of everyone waiting at the light — they were getting ready to block traffic pulling their handlebars way back and going up on one wheel and other such tricks. I was right behind them & the rider at the back kept glancing at me to make sure I wasn’t getting impatient & wasn’t going to try to crowd them or honk or anything. And I was trying to signal to him, nah, man, it’s fine, y’all take all the time you want, I’m learning why we create back here, I’m imagining foggy mornings and walks to school in the cold and the years I fell in love.
Beautiful piece and poem. Yes, I've had these thoughts. And my "soul bowing ” in awe of some wild creature, catching my breath and watching as quietly as possible. Thanks.
Beautiful as always. Thank you. And the poem; you're right, it's like a small campfire throwing sparks every time I read it.
Keep walking, Antonia.
Thank you Antonia. Exactly why I come back to Substack, and to your writing.. To read something as beautiful a reminder as this..
That was beautiful, Antonia. I love reading (or listening to) your thoughts and ruminations. This was the right thing for me to read last night before fading into sweet oblivion.
“The soul bows.” 🙏🏽
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
Your writing and thoughts has made my life a little bit better, a little bit happier, and a little bit more joyful. So thank you for that. This does count.
I saw this come in last night, but saved it for this morning when I could have a proper listen with my morning coffee. I loved hearing your thoughts on writing. While we write to tell story, I love that you bring up the value of writing just to show the beauty in the world and to connect with another soul over it. And then embody it.
I'm planning on being in Spokane next week, winter and passes willing. I'm sorry to have missed you.
🦅
I felt so shocked reading that you hadn't seen the moon in some time, I take for granted my usually cloudless nights here in Florida. I found myself looking up at her full beauty often this last week, she was really outdoing herself!! I kept thinking, how many people have stopped to acknowledge her beauty today, right now, perhaps in this moment? That human connection, those soul bows as you so rightly called them, is so beautiful. Thank you for writing this!
Nia, first of all tight hugs for whatever it is that is weighing on you. I am thinking of you as I brew some tea. Have some when you can.
Second, wow! You have encapsulated the essence of being a writer here with all that is ongoing around you right now with such eloquence. If writing ever left you never to return, we will be so god awfully broken - all your readers. I can feel all your aches and wonder for the world around you. I am just here to tell you thank you for doing it for us, thank you for writing and creating this beautiful community of love, warmth, support, and acceptance. I found home here, alongside you. 💜🌼🤗
I love that you write such lyrical prose and then punctuate it with a line like, “Writing is very, very weird.”
Reading this felt like that pause for the bald eagle. I admire the way you conjure place and senses, moon glow and cold and birdsong and wonder. 👏