This afternoon, in preparation for our first meeting of Writing Lab this quarter, I browsed my bookshelves and found Fingerpainting on the Moon by Peter Levitt. This book contains one of my all time favorite quotations (which I’ve shared more than once, but here it is again):

“This is joy — the kind that comes from expressing the most intimate part of our lives and having it valued and known. Awakening such joy allows us to love.”

(image from http://spaceweather.com/eclipses/gallery_15may03_page3.html)

In his chapter, “Everything Is Permitted in the Imagination,” Levitt tells the story of a woman joining him in a garden at the Sonoma Mountain Zen Center, and telling him, “You know, there’s room for us.” The story continues:

As she said this she gently swept her hand in an arc to include all the various forms of life before us. I watched as she encircled all the vegetables, fruit and flowers, the compost piles, the shape of the distant mountain, and then included the two of us with her gesturing hand. “If there wasn’t room,” she said with a conspiratorial smile, “we couldn’t be here at all.” 

Later in this chapter Levitt recommends making up a sign in big letters spelling: “PERMISSION GRANTED.” So I did. I made up 10 of them and took them to Writing Lab and I handed them out.

Consider this blog post to be your permission.

I’ve been at my desk in Gray Wolf Hall quite a lot this week, getting a stiff neck from sitting in front of the computer, and developing an eye twitch. I won’t start in about the meetings I’ve attended. I’m here to count my blessings.

Number one — I have this great gig, a teaching job where I’m paid to talk about books and writing. This job not only pays me a salary and provides health insurance for my family, but it enables me to write about anything I want. I don’t have to worry about writing a book that will sell. I don’t have to hustle for little teaching jobs or editing gigs or random writing assignments to pay the bills. I also have great colleagues who — even in meetings — I’ve enjoyed seeing again.

My office is on the third floor, and I have — if I stand up and stretch — a bit of a view of Puget Sound. I have a terrific view of sky. This week I’ve watched the weather shift from bright sunshine (early in the week) to gray (today). A hawk flew by a little while ago with a mouse in its talons. Until I started writing this post, I had forgotten that Wednesday afternoon I saw, in the distance, an unmistakable line of pelicans flying by. I frequently see eagles and great blue herons, sometimes very close to my window. (Thanks to Kathleen Kirk and Chris Harshaw for this fabulous photograph.)

On Monday, my students will be back on campus. I’ve met with a few of them this week. I’ve answered quite a few emails. I’ve written a syllabus for each class. I have first week reading and writing assignments in hand. I’ve planned my course calendars so that I can go on my writing retreat at the end of October.

It’s a good life. I’m grateful.