rejection reaps fruit
~ what soothed, enlightened and moved me this Winter ~
Dear friend,
The start of daylight savings always marks the start of Spring for me. With longer light I can suddenly see all the signs of change. The local ice rink has melted and closed for the season. I can walk with my coat open by the lakefront without a shiver. My space heater and humidifier have been stored away.
Spring is coming.
I have to give this winter some gratitude, though: It’s probably the best winter I’ve had since moving to Chicago. I felt prepared both materially (my duvet coat, multiple travel-sized hand lotions), relationally (all the dinners at home with loved ones), and in a thousand other tiny ways that come with many winters of lessons learned.
As I transition into the last year of my twenties, I mostly see this decade as a master class led by two spiritual teachers: Rejection and Grace. So much of what I have in my life is the result of rejection and the ability to see that rejection as an act of grace—some greater guide directing me away from or toward something.
In a way, rejection is a tiny grief. We offer up a small portion of our desire, our hope, our need, our gifts and ask someone to see those vulnerable offerings as worthy of something—opportunity, money, recognition, love. The sharp “unfortunately” in the body of an email can feel like a minor heartbreak. But just like heartbreak, we’re asked to collect our vulnerable bits and lovingly bring them back to ourselves. Tend to them, understand them and offer them again back to the world, less afraid that rejection will break them. Both the journalism and poetry fellowships I’m currently in are opportunities I was originally rejected from and then reapplied to—the fruit of learning, refining, and opening myself up again to possibility.
Last month I received a loving and honest rejection letter from Ann Friedman. In it she shared her own experience receiving a rejection this year:
“Eventually I got over my disappointment and soothed myself with the truth: That the act of applying had kicked my ass into gear and forced me to articulate some clear goals and timelines for my writing. And while it wasn't as good as getting the fellowship itself, that was still worth something. I hope that the act of applying was a way of kicking your own writing practice into gear.”
In the spirit of celebrating the vulnerability of articulating our desires, I’m delighted to invite you to write poems and reflection your own creativity in April’s In Surreal Life. I feel so luck to be facilitating alongside the lovely
and stewarding this space created that has revitalized my devotion to writing and community. March 13th is the scholarship deadline and registration closes March 22nd.
Below, I’ve compiled some of the things I’ve been listening to, reading and watching in hopes that they might move you like they have me. If you would like to join the crew of folks offering a few dollars a month to support this tender writing practice (and to see all the gems I curate each season) please consider becoming a paid subscriber.