How to Be a Human
Doubling down on joy and love
Long lost friends,
It’s been an eternity!
Too dramatic I’m sure, but it does feel like forever since I last connected with you. A lot can happen in a month.
I do hope this letter finds you well as it has been dramatic for those of us abiding here in the States. Last week’s election held a lot of emotions for people, and while I’m not here to lend weight to any side of the equation, I’ve been reflecting on my recent trip to New York and Philadelphia, and thought instead I might interject a few wholesome words to point our eyes in another direction—to things that speak to the best of humanity, no matter where you land on the political spectrum.
My ten-year-old daughter, Ruby, recently selected and memorized a poem by Wendell Berry for her school’s speech meet titled “How to Be a Poet.” It’s a lovely poem and I encourage you to read it, for it’s relevant not just for writers and poets, but for humans. So much so, that every time my daughter recited the title, mentally I replaced it with “How to Be a Human.” Coincidentally, it seems a perfect encapsulation for this post.
My time on the East Coast was perfection. A treasure. Like a beautiful mural of individual brushstrokes each representing God-bestowed gifts that bring me joy: family, friends, art, culture, city, writing, and community.
Starting my trip in NYC, I was able to spend three days (one of them my birthday) with my oldest son who attends Columbia University. What a blessing to be with him in my favorite place in the world! If you know me at all, you know that New York is my city. I lived there for several years in my twenties, and it’s rooted in my bones. Deep in my bones. It always feels like home—and all the more now that my son lives there.
Coffee shops, bookstores, a Broadway show. Tree-lined streets and brownstones. Live jazz. Waking each morning with the sun rising over Harlem. Time with my son.
I can’t tell you how it all filled my cup!
After my time in New York, I traveled to Philly by train for my MFA residency at Drexel University. Previously, I’d also made arrangements to meet my dear friend Leslie, whose daughter attends the adjacent UPenn.
I stepped off the train to meet their lovely faces, and we spent three fabulous evenings eating good food, exploring the campuses and downtown Philly, and catching up with late night chats in our hotel room.
Twenty-four years of friendship means she and I have watched one another endure the best and worst of life. Time with such a friend is a treasure indeed.
And the residency? Nothing short of amazing.
There is so much I could say about the time with my cohort…the teaching and talent and formation of new friendships, but for the purpose of this post, I want to focus on our workshops.
A writing workshop is essentially a round table discussion where each writer presents their work; it’s usually read beforehand by the other writers in the group who then give feedback in person. While I’ve experienced virtual workshopping and smaller critique groups, sitting at a table knowing that eleven supremely talented writers would be reviewing my words was intimidating to say the least.
But instead of it being a terrifying experience, it ended up being my favorite part of the residency. To be with a cohort of writers all sharing work from different genres and worldviews while simultaneously supporting one another fully, felt a bit miraculous. And I’ve been thinking since how we could all learn a thing or two from a writing workshop about how to be the best kind of human.
Why? Because there’s a golden rule in workshopping: you must lead with something positive.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a situation where a group of people spent thirty minutes taking turns saying good things about your soul (for writing is putting your soul on the line), but it’s quite fortifying. In fact, it’s so edifying that by the time the critique part of the conversation arrives, you are more than willing to receive. You feel safe. It’s much easier to hear an opinion about your work, even if you disagree, if you’ve been affirmed in your strengths beforehand.
What’s more, I found it an absolute joy to be on the giving end of these workshops. To collectively mine for the riches in another person’s work, even writing I wouldn’t normally read, was a lesson in being a good community member. Being with other writers who all wanted to celebrate and elevate one another’s words was incredibly life-giving.
I think the application is obvious.
It’s an act of holiness to set our minds on the things that are good, true, lovely, and praiseworthy in others. Even the ones who hold different views than ours. Even the ones who just removed political signs from their yard that we cringed over.
And so, to wrap up, I want to offer my joyful week as a reminder to us all. I don’t know where this message finds you—I have friends with wildly different viewpoints, even within the Church. If you find yourself disappointed or confused in the last few weeks (politics involved or not), perhaps give yourself a moment of rest and double down in the places you find joy. Fill your cup with wholesome treasures—they are gifts of God to sustain us!
And if you find yourself celebrating or mourning a particular outcome, remember that many of your neighbors see it differently. But either way, they are your neighbors—and God has called us to love our neighbor as ourselves. What might it look like to apply the principles of a writing workshop to your communities in this time? To focus on what is good in others. To find things to praise. To build up those around you. To find common ground.
I don’t suggest you reject your own convictions or negate actions that algin with those convictions—I simply suggest you love those who disagree whilst doing so. Please believe when I say, I speak all these reminders to myself, too!
In parting, I hope you will find joy and love in your midst until we meet again. I pray we can walk in the Spirit and receive the fruit given therein: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
It’s these that instruct us best on how to be humans.
Tiffany
Thank you, once again, Tiffany for your enriching words and sharing your journey with us. Thank you also for planting in our minds the same principle of lifting up and finding the good in others that we’re taught in writing groups. Love the photo with your son!
It was the best! Watching you use your gift and realizing your dream is such a joy as your friend. The late night chats were certainly balm for my soul.❤️