Photo by the incredible and ever-talented zrbuck.com

It’s been quite a year for me, 2022–I moved into a home in New Orleans after being on the road for the majority of 2020 and 2021, I recommitted myself to writing poetry after my third attempt at being a novelist (trololol), I performed as an actor with lines in the first piece of theater I’ve helped create in almost a decade (and was paid, woo!), I failed at growing tomatoes (among other things) in the golf south, I lost my car, I started drinking La Croix, I made over 200 sheets of handmade paper of varying colors/thicknesses/textures/materials, I backpacked alone for the longest time I’ve ever been in wilderness by myself, saw the white and green mountains for the first time, hiked over 150 miles of the Appalachian trial, foraged fruit for countless jams and pies, drove the length of the east coast up and down, led our third training of “The Shift” in Mexico, bought a banjo and started learning to play, and wrote hundreds, if not thousands, of poems on the street everywhere from New Orleans to New York and back.

The year’s been full and I have only a few complaints about it and what complaints I do have I know you probably won’t want to read–let’s be honest, complaining is boring. So I’ll focus on the reflections I’m taking with me into this next year. Reflections, I think, which are applicable to this next chapter of my life I’ll call, “being a full-time writer/artist/freelancer,” though they’re reflections I’ve learned while being all of the other iterations of a Madi I’ve been (the “travelin’ street poet,” “director of a cooperative self-directed learning center,” “yoga teacher,” “ecstatic dance fanatic,” “educator,” “Ranger Maddie,” “performer,” “overachiever,” “confused teenager,” “enthusiastically friendly kid”). So here they are, the 2022 reflections I’ll carry with me:

1. It feels really good to remember how much I like, love, and maybe even envy myself a little bit.
2. When I do things for other people, it’s rare that I’ll meet their expectations.
3. Life is a dance between the comfort of the edge/its surrounding shallows and the rolling, open water.

A story: Someone during the training I led this year (see post titled, “On Learning to Speak Non-violence and Spanish” for more information) had a big realization about worry. They were considering fear and trust and how these forces relate to one another when this aha burst out: “I can either worry about the things I don’t know or can’t control or I can not worry about them and either way the outcome doesn’t change.” 

For me, much of my worry in life stems from wanting others to be happy, not wanting others to feel like I’ve cast them into the open water, alone. If I worry for myself, it is not from a place of like or even love for myself, but from a place of doubting my own value which ultimately casts me into the depths alone as well. This upcoming year I want to give less time to all of that. I intend to live fully in the space of liking, loving, and even envying myself. I intend to try meeting my own expectations first. I intend to let myself explore the unknowns and discomforts of things that are not limiting, but those which can expand my capacity to hold life. 

One of those areas for expansion through exploring discomfort continues to be writing–poetry, these blog posts, anything that calls me to use my voice to translate ideas swirling in the world of my understanding into language. This year, I’m leaning into poetry and looking for opportunities to hone that craft, share my work, and be exposed to more poems by other writers that inspire me. More to come on this one, but to find my current work you can check out my new website, www.madizins.com (yes, the domain was available!). And, my partner Zach and I have started a business typing poems for events, weddings, conferences, and for commissions here in New Orleans and beyond! More information at our new website, www.crescentcitypoetry.com. 

Another of those realms of discomfort and growth is facilitating and leading the fourth iteration of “The Shift” January 20-27th, 2023. I find so much opportunity for learning through challenge while facilitating this training because I am still practicing all the content we, the participants and the facilitators (myself and my dear friends from Radical Learning, Sari Gonzalez and Becka Koritz), explore together in it. Together, we learn about ways we can be more free and how we can build more equitable relationships with ourselves and others. Many, though not all, participants are involved in youth learning, and all of us leave with a deepened understanding of what a life of free learning at all ages can look like. More information here, though feel free to email me if you’re interested in joining us for the next one or any in the future (more to come!).

And there are so many more areas for creative expansion through being challenged! Papermaking–realizing my dreams of handmade journals that are in the works and paper sculptures with found materials! Performance possibilities with theater in New Orleans and with playing my old guitar at some open mics! Baking and dancing and so much more!

Here’s to hoping you, too, friend, are able to hold yourself with love and care while meeting your own expectations first and exploring expansive realms of discomfort in this next year. Or whatever abundance looks like for you in 2023. May it be coming for you just as much as you’re coming for it.

Hugs,

Madi