Monday, July 19, 2010

Home to Dream and Sleep

Safe to assume that the Hamline Summer Residency residents are now all home again (or on their way), tucked in their beds and hopefully catching up on all that loss of sleep, and all that mind stimulation. It’s always like this—an intense week covering the gamut and all the ranges of emotional highs and lows combined with this complex and beautiful writing life. I keep coming back to that Socrates quote, “an unexamined life is not worth living.” How fortunate we are to be writers and have this agonizing opportunity to examine life in all its grit and glory.

My dogs were thrilled to have me home for about three minutes and then just wanted their same old food and walk routine. I am happy to be back in my little familiar house for a day or two before the next step of intense emotional whirlwind begins—but that’s part of the life of the writer, which is really the life of every human being. So much for long and complicated transitions. Home is where we are now.

Hats off to all the Hamline graduates, their stunning readings and their scintillating personalities. Congrats to all the third semester enlightening lecturers. Congrats to the second semesters for coming back with enthusiasm and openness. Congrats to the first semesters for surviving the beginning of their journey thus far.

Now, after a bit of sleep, the real exciting work begins. Wahooo!
Don’t forget to write. Dark nights of the soul and all.

PS. Anyone feel free to comment on some of your personal highlights of the residency for those who were not there. It's too much for one sleep deprived faculty member to summarize.


  1. Welcome, home, Lisa. It's a transition to move back into my regular life while part of me is still back with the Hamline family. The lectures, the workshops, the grad readings all challenge me to go deeper, to uncover my true voice in my writing. I cherish all of you for leading me there.

  2. Good luck with the next step, Lisa. I'll be thinking of you in the middle of my own emotional whirlwind. Let's raise a glass in September when the winds die down a bit.