"Tresspass like a river" feels like the manifesto I was looking for - not just when I'm out exploring (Scotland seems very much on the side of rivers, thanks to Right To Roam) but also creatively. I was part of a panel of writers talking about braided essays a few weeks back, and isn't that what such a piece of writing is - an interweaving of narrative currents and a willingness to burst accepted boundaries if the story calls for it?
(Also I feel like my writing is always better when I allow myself to transgress its themes and play a game where I think "can I get away with putting this very foolish thing that made me laugh next to this very serious thing that absolutely didn't"?)
You write so beautifully. I don't comment enough, so that means I don't say this enough. So I'm saying it now.
I was so intriguied by "the uncanny warmth of ice." Could you explain that for my ice-inexperienced brain?
I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. I thought about that phrasing for a long time. Excuse me while I live another lifetime in a different universe so I can become a poet and better explain it 🫠 It's how the smell of ice hits the back of the sinuses ... you know, it's probably better to explain in a wall of words somewhere else, lol.
And yes, totally agree about braided essays and transgressing themes. I worry a lot about including too much in an essay and following tangents, but I think if we allow just a little time to sit with them and listen to what all those supposed tangents are telling us, we'll see which ones are acting like braided river canals. I *always* enjoy what you do with your essays. It's just delightful and fun and surprising and interesting. Your juxtapositions bring a lot of strength to your essays.
Thank you, Nia, I love this. And I love the new name! I remember caddis flies from a "nature study" class in grade school. Now I'll have to talk to my self-described wetland nerd friend from the State Department of Ecology on where to find them locally.
"...capitalism’s need for scarcity." Another book right there!
Enjoy the freedom of Trespassing, Nia. And I love the river of this writing that takes us past burning tires, Alexander, and especially caddisflies, while promising a much greater journey ahead.
I love the new title. I have never seen a caddisfly larva case, but I recall seeing an illustration of one in a nature guide as a child, and being fascinated with them. I just visited the Conowingo Dam on the Susquehanna river, where fishermen cast for striped bass while a dozen Bald Eagles swooped for hickory shad. I read up on the dam and the gates are opened on occasion when the river threatens to destroy it. The river is not truly controlled... only advised.
Oh, I like that: "not truly controlled ... only advised."
There are a bunch of dams in the midwest that are so old and silted up they're hardly functional, and the silt is going to eventually bring them down without maintenance. Which nobody's paying for.
so so much goodness here, food for thought always —and thank you in particular for a lovely daydream about the individual flavors of river water and a time when, for half a decade, i was able to relish the unfiltered selway and ki’s tributaries (all of whom trespassed as they would), every day as a matter of course—slurping directly from the bank or with the civilized addition of cupped hands. a long time ago and also the day before yesterday.
It is something I dearly miss -- drinking those wild waters without a second thought. I'm never quite sure how to phrase it publicly, because I don't want to encourage people to go out and drink unfiltered water that could make them sick. I only drink unfiltered from particular waterways, and usually only at particular times of year and in particular spots. Even then, it's risky. I only started doing so again because a local friend and I were talking about how we grew up drinking from all the streams, lakes, and rivers -- on the advice of our parents when we were hiking thirsty -- and are probably infected with all kinds of things.
And then I remember how many towns and cities I've lived in that have had boil water alerts for their water systems ...
I stopped drinking directly out of creeks on a backpack trip I took when I was pregnant. till then I’d never given it a thought but suddenly I went all protective. After that I ended up living in town and suddenly it seemed unsafe. but it would be amazing to get back into the mountains and try again. Because honestly, I filter my town water to get out the flavor of all the stuff they put in to keep it safe. Crazy
Embracing your change! Feels more accessible and freed. Reverent of the Wild we've been born into. The call to return is proportional to the assails upon it, and it is a roar now, at least for me.
(BTW, I have the inverse problem in writing: great at titles, challenged in the message. Halp. 🫠)
LOL, I feel your "halp." But I wouldn't called your messages challenged! You have a powerful, firm voice, and clear vision of what you want to say. I admire that in your writing!
I dunno. I'm just a bleeding fool toiling under Cassandra's curse, singing the blues in the room between what is and what will be. (I don't know what I'm doing other than feeling.)
And thank you. Your admiration, as an accomplished writer that I admire, is not taken lightly. ❤️
Thank you, Patrick. And yeah. As I'm sure you know well, the snowpack this year has been dismal. I'm not looking forward to late summer and the ache of waterways.
Though it did snow, then rain, then hail hard for most of the first day I was at the cabin! But still.
What a joy to have a window that allows my trespass into your lovely and amazing brain!(I guess it's not trespass if invited!)I always feel transported when I read you. Ahhhhhh. Keep it coming!
Nia the caddisfly casing is so surreal, look at its geometrical design. I remember having share story between the two of us about invertebrate living is water bodies. And it brings me back to what you said about Rivers being trespassers and embodiment of rebellion against boundaries and borders. It is the root of my ancestral story. Bangladesh where my ancestors are from and West Bengal in India where they took refuge literally share the same river.
“This lake knows me. And I her” - this sentence for me embodies your writing so well. The lived experience of relating, seeing, belonging - the grief, sorrow, love all bundled into your fearless voice. ‘Trespassing’ suits the rebellious spirit so well.
Swarna, you would LOVE caddisflies. I can't tell you how many times I'm at that one creek and wishing I could show them to you!
That story about your ancestors -- it brought chills to me. There's so much in that, in the river that flows through the two countries that defined your ancestor's refuge and escape. I can *feel* your story there flowing already ... 💧💚
Life is a dream my friend. Maybe one day I will be standing at that creek beside you looking at those caddisflies together. Thank you for thinking of me while you were there. I hope they heard you and blessed us both.
These elements of the natural world are so powerful Nia. I keep thinking of them in terms of archetypes - that which is not visible in waking reality. What the rivers, the mountains, the caddisflies represent in our psyche and why do we lean on one element more than other. How like sediments they keep forming within us these layers of knowing. Maybe part of it must be ancestral and primal. But certainly some of that is individual and so far removed from the layer of memory. I have not known many rivers growing up because the industrial town where I grew up was in an arid region of India. But when I lean on to the knowledge of rivers, understanding them comes naturally to me and so does forming relationships with them. Maybe that’s because my ancestors of wet lowlands spent thousands of years living by the rivers and streams? Maybe memory too is epigenetics? In any case I am truly grateful for this inheritance.
Here’s to the relationship between you, the creeks, and the caddisflies 💜 and here’s to us 💜💜
I love love love this idea of rivers and mountains and caddisflies -- and fireflies! -- as archetypes. I think there is something huge in that, Swarna! 💚💚💚
I think memory is very intertwined with epigenetics, and modern science just hasn't caught up yet.
Well, longer than that, but in the 1200s is when enclosures of the commons got going in England, really ramping up in the 1400s and coming in waves throughout the 1800s, and to today though less noticeable. (And that last is true in the U.S., too; an environmental lawyer friend of mine was just telling me the other day about documents related to various swaps of public land to private owners and corporations, kept pretty quiet.)
I like the double, contradictory meaning of trespass you're pointing to here: the arbitrary definitions prescribed and imposed by powerful interests, as opposed to trespass as resistance or simply the freedom to wander where one likes. Renaming your blog Trespass could be seen as a shift from the ideal of a shared commons, to the reality of a fundamental clash of values in how we go about sharing (or not sharing, or not even acknowledging) that commons.
And thanks for your thoughtful reply to my comment in the previous post! Meant to acknowledge that.
Always a pleasure, Chris. Your ideas always send mine wandering far.
And what a great description. That is in fact along the lines of what I was thinking, though I hadn't articulated it to myself quite so well. Not just the commons, but what trespass entails, including enclosure.
I really like the idea of changing the title to reflect your evolving thought, although I must admit "On The Commons" had a nice formal ring to it! That said, "Trespass" has its own punchy appeal, not to mention the most underrated album by the band Genesis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhw1gm5-nt0 .
Along with the shift from aspirational commons to contested meanings of "trespass," that title also suggests a shift from noun to verb: the process of how these arbitrary boundaries get negotiated, imposed and/or resisted. (Overanalyzing, I know!).
That's kinda perfect, and not overanalyzing at all. Words are such living things, the thought of shifting intention and purpose from noun to verb and what that means gives me a lot to think about.
As ever, you write deeply. It's been a minute since I read your work but it brought me write back to Montana and Mother's Day hatches on the river and caddisflies. Thanks for the work that you do. I hope you get that book done and published soon. So glad the world has your voice.
Welcome back to Montana for a few moments, even if just in the imagination! And thank you for the kind words. (And the reminder to possibly get out to a creek on Mother's Day.)
"Tresspass like a river" feels like the manifesto I was looking for - not just when I'm out exploring (Scotland seems very much on the side of rivers, thanks to Right To Roam) but also creatively. I was part of a panel of writers talking about braided essays a few weeks back, and isn't that what such a piece of writing is - an interweaving of narrative currents and a willingness to burst accepted boundaries if the story calls for it?
(Also I feel like my writing is always better when I allow myself to transgress its themes and play a game where I think "can I get away with putting this very foolish thing that made me laugh next to this very serious thing that absolutely didn't"?)
You write so beautifully. I don't comment enough, so that means I don't say this enough. So I'm saying it now.
I was so intriguied by "the uncanny warmth of ice." Could you explain that for my ice-inexperienced brain?
I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. I thought about that phrasing for a long time. Excuse me while I live another lifetime in a different universe so I can become a poet and better explain it 🫠 It's how the smell of ice hits the back of the sinuses ... you know, it's probably better to explain in a wall of words somewhere else, lol.
And yes, totally agree about braided essays and transgressing themes. I worry a lot about including too much in an essay and following tangents, but I think if we allow just a little time to sit with them and listen to what all those supposed tangents are telling us, we'll see which ones are acting like braided river canals. I *always* enjoy what you do with your essays. It's just delightful and fun and surprising and interesting. Your juxtapositions bring a lot of strength to your essays.
Thanks, Mike!
Thank you, Nia, I love this. And I love the new name! I remember caddis flies from a "nature study" class in grade school. Now I'll have to talk to my self-described wetland nerd friend from the State Department of Ecology on where to find them locally.
"...capitalism’s need for scarcity." Another book right there!
Speaking of fishing, I'm guessing you already saw this: https://youtu.be/bCoBllXvCbk?si=2AdA7mS6Wam_TXzE
Oh, look, our uber-wealthy, pro-industry governor (whose millions also fund a Creationist museum) brushing off accountability. Who woulda thunk!
I'd love to hear if you have caddisflies nearby!
Enjoy the freedom of Trespassing, Nia. And I love the river of this writing that takes us past burning tires, Alexander, and especially caddisflies, while promising a much greater journey ahead.
Thank you, Jason! That means a lot. Burning tires, Alexander, and caddisflies ... maybe I should work those into a subtitle 😂
I love the new title. I have never seen a caddisfly larva case, but I recall seeing an illustration of one in a nature guide as a child, and being fascinated with them. I just visited the Conowingo Dam on the Susquehanna river, where fishermen cast for striped bass while a dozen Bald Eagles swooped for hickory shad. I read up on the dam and the gates are opened on occasion when the river threatens to destroy it. The river is not truly controlled... only advised.
Oh, I like that: "not truly controlled ... only advised."
There are a bunch of dams in the midwest that are so old and silted up they're hardly functional, and the silt is going to eventually bring them down without maintenance. Which nobody's paying for.
Thank you, Nia, as always
Much gratitude to you, Greg.
so so much goodness here, food for thought always —and thank you in particular for a lovely daydream about the individual flavors of river water and a time when, for half a decade, i was able to relish the unfiltered selway and ki’s tributaries (all of whom trespassed as they would), every day as a matter of course—slurping directly from the bank or with the civilized addition of cupped hands. a long time ago and also the day before yesterday.
It is something I dearly miss -- drinking those wild waters without a second thought. I'm never quite sure how to phrase it publicly, because I don't want to encourage people to go out and drink unfiltered water that could make them sick. I only drink unfiltered from particular waterways, and usually only at particular times of year and in particular spots. Even then, it's risky. I only started doing so again because a local friend and I were talking about how we grew up drinking from all the streams, lakes, and rivers -- on the advice of our parents when we were hiking thirsty -- and are probably infected with all kinds of things.
And then I remember how many towns and cities I've lived in that have had boil water alerts for their water systems ...
I stopped drinking directly out of creeks on a backpack trip I took when I was pregnant. till then I’d never given it a thought but suddenly I went all protective. After that I ended up living in town and suddenly it seemed unsafe. but it would be amazing to get back into the mountains and try again. Because honestly, I filter my town water to get out the flavor of all the stuff they put in to keep it safe. Crazy
Embracing your change! Feels more accessible and freed. Reverent of the Wild we've been born into. The call to return is proportional to the assails upon it, and it is a roar now, at least for me.
(BTW, I have the inverse problem in writing: great at titles, challenged in the message. Halp. 🫠)
LOL, I feel your "halp." But I wouldn't called your messages challenged! You have a powerful, firm voice, and clear vision of what you want to say. I admire that in your writing!
I dunno. I'm just a bleeding fool toiling under Cassandra's curse, singing the blues in the room between what is and what will be. (I don't know what I'm doing other than feeling.)
And thank you. Your admiration, as an accomplished writer that I admire, is not taken lightly. ❤️
You can trespass all you want upon my noggin’ Nia . Great read . Thank you .
III
Thank you, Harry!
Thank you, perfect read this morning.
Judging (un-scientifically) by your photo, Holland Peak doesn't appear to be holding much snow.
Thank you, Patrick. And yeah. As I'm sure you know well, the snowpack this year has been dismal. I'm not looking forward to late summer and the ache of waterways.
Though it did snow, then rain, then hail hard for most of the first day I was at the cabin! But still.
What a joy to have a window that allows my trespass into your lovely and amazing brain!(I guess it's not trespass if invited!)I always feel transported when I read you. Ahhhhhh. Keep it coming!
Gosh, thank you, Michael! I guess my brain invites trespass. It's like a toddler: "what's over there? What about that? What's this? I need a nap!" 😂
Gratitude for your truth writing 🌱🌿💚
Thank you, Katharine! You know more than many people the lack of waters' boundaries.💚
Nia the caddisfly casing is so surreal, look at its geometrical design. I remember having share story between the two of us about invertebrate living is water bodies. And it brings me back to what you said about Rivers being trespassers and embodiment of rebellion against boundaries and borders. It is the root of my ancestral story. Bangladesh where my ancestors are from and West Bengal in India where they took refuge literally share the same river.
“This lake knows me. And I her” - this sentence for me embodies your writing so well. The lived experience of relating, seeing, belonging - the grief, sorrow, love all bundled into your fearless voice. ‘Trespassing’ suits the rebellious spirit so well.
Swarna, you would LOVE caddisflies. I can't tell you how many times I'm at that one creek and wishing I could show them to you!
That story about your ancestors -- it brought chills to me. There's so much in that, in the river that flows through the two countries that defined your ancestor's refuge and escape. I can *feel* your story there flowing already ... 💧💚
Life is a dream my friend. Maybe one day I will be standing at that creek beside you looking at those caddisflies together. Thank you for thinking of me while you were there. I hope they heard you and blessed us both.
These elements of the natural world are so powerful Nia. I keep thinking of them in terms of archetypes - that which is not visible in waking reality. What the rivers, the mountains, the caddisflies represent in our psyche and why do we lean on one element more than other. How like sediments they keep forming within us these layers of knowing. Maybe part of it must be ancestral and primal. But certainly some of that is individual and so far removed from the layer of memory. I have not known many rivers growing up because the industrial town where I grew up was in an arid region of India. But when I lean on to the knowledge of rivers, understanding them comes naturally to me and so does forming relationships with them. Maybe that’s because my ancestors of wet lowlands spent thousands of years living by the rivers and streams? Maybe memory too is epigenetics? In any case I am truly grateful for this inheritance.
Here’s to the relationship between you, the creeks, and the caddisflies 💜 and here’s to us 💜💜
I love love love this idea of rivers and mountains and caddisflies -- and fireflies! -- as archetypes. I think there is something huge in that, Swarna! 💚💚💚
I think memory is very intertwined with epigenetics, and modern science just hasn't caught up yet.
“Trespassing” would be a great name. Why not change it! I’ll still read.
800 years! From when to when? Long-ass time.
Well, longer than that, but in the 1200s is when enclosures of the commons got going in England, really ramping up in the 1400s and coming in waves throughout the 1800s, and to today though less noticeable. (And that last is true in the U.S., too; an environmental lawyer friend of mine was just telling me the other day about documents related to various swaps of public land to private owners and corporations, kept pretty quiet.)
And thanks! Change is done. Let's trespass :)
I like the double, contradictory meaning of trespass you're pointing to here: the arbitrary definitions prescribed and imposed by powerful interests, as opposed to trespass as resistance or simply the freedom to wander where one likes. Renaming your blog Trespass could be seen as a shift from the ideal of a shared commons, to the reality of a fundamental clash of values in how we go about sharing (or not sharing, or not even acknowledging) that commons.
And thanks for your thoughtful reply to my comment in the previous post! Meant to acknowledge that.
Always a pleasure, Chris. Your ideas always send mine wandering far.
And what a great description. That is in fact along the lines of what I was thinking, though I hadn't articulated it to myself quite so well. Not just the commons, but what trespass entails, including enclosure.
I really like the idea of changing the title to reflect your evolving thought, although I must admit "On The Commons" had a nice formal ring to it! That said, "Trespass" has its own punchy appeal, not to mention the most underrated album by the band Genesis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhw1gm5-nt0 .
Along with the shift from aspirational commons to contested meanings of "trespass," that title also suggests a shift from noun to verb: the process of how these arbitrary boundaries get negotiated, imposed and/or resisted. (Overanalyzing, I know!).
That's kinda perfect, and not overanalyzing at all. Words are such living things, the thought of shifting intention and purpose from noun to verb and what that means gives me a lot to think about.
As ever, you write deeply. It's been a minute since I read your work but it brought me write back to Montana and Mother's Day hatches on the river and caddisflies. Thanks for the work that you do. I hope you get that book done and published soon. So glad the world has your voice.
Welcome back to Montana for a few moments, even if just in the imagination! And thank you for the kind words. (And the reminder to possibly get out to a creek on Mother's Day.)