Ask Questions Of Truth

a Heart to Page lesson

Wednesday was my last day on the Concordia University Ann Arbor campus. My office now is in what is called “The North Building.” Gone is the view of the Chapel on the walk in to work. No longer will there be water break walks to see the peonies in the garden beyond the manor. The bells will no longer chime out, “Take My Life And Let It Be” as students walk the small quad from class to cafeteria to practice to wherever they’re off to next.

My office in the North Building is fine. I have a huge desk and even a mini fridge. There are two windows with views of trees and a courtyard with tables and chairs.

But everything about the building screams, “What was.” There’s a pristine hallway - an entire wing, really - that is set up for the nursing majors. But we have no more nursing majors. The place looks exactly like a doctor’s office. It is eerily quiet and clean. Walking through it, the place feels alive - like it’s ready and waiting for patients that will never arrive.

Desks and other office supplies are sitting in another hallway, as if to say, “What do we do now? Where do we go?” Next to my office is the library - a room that’s about 10 by 12 feet and with no books.

On the day I moved to the North Building, I picked up Luci Shaw’s Breathe for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit: Reflections on Creativity and Faith, and found this poem by William Stafford:

So, the world happens twice -
once what we see it as,
second, it legends itself
Deep, the way it is.

Here, “legends” is a verb, personifying our experiences and making them active. It is through observation and reflection that our experiences can legend and in effect, become legends. Luci Shaw offers a way to do this. She writes, “Artists ask questions of truth,” suggesting that we take what we experience and instead of coming to a judgement or evaluation of that moment, we wonder about it first.

My Heart to Page cohort is in deep revision mode as they are getting their final portfolio and manuscripts ready for our Story Slam and submissions. This is an exciting and stressful time. We are meeting together weekly in this last month of the course to hold each other accountable and I hope, for inspiration. Last week, I shared this poem and quote and then offered a little prompt to the writers: Think about your day. Make a list of what happened if you want. What questions do you have from the truth of your day?

Here were mine:

• What will happen to the crosses at the back of the Chapel once Concordia closes? How about the fire pit on the banks of the Huron River?

• Who owned that skateboard? Why did they leave it?

• Why is the custodian still washing the windows on campus?

• How can an entire library fit into one office?

I’m not looking for answers to these questions, but finding the questions and writing them down allowed some space to open up for the possibility of a new story - something that legends itself into me - a new truth, perhaps. Even if nothing new emerges, asking questions of - reflecting on - my day settles me and prepares me to write the stories that are waiting to become legends.

This prompt gets at what Heart to Page is all about - taking those moments that strike and shimmer and finding a way to put them on the page. That takes endurance and patience and grit. Especially now, we are living in a time with so much reaction and call for production and action. Even if you aren’t a writer (but you are, you know you are) I encourage you to try this prompt out at the end of one of your days. Or try it for a week. I tell my cohort to think of these prompts (I give them a ton throughout the nine months we work together) as party favors - small presents to open to help remember the fun and mystery in writing.

What legends are waiting?

For my paid subscribers, I’ve created a zine template for you. Print it out and ask questions of truth for a week. See what happens.