Aaron

     If I could steal anything from Aaron Shurin it would be his perspective because it, and only it, makes his, ahem, flowery language, work.  Music strikes again and I have to refer to a song quote to explain what I mean.  "You've got a lovely way with words - it's just the way you see the world."  Aaron is a poet for sure.  I feel this effortlessness in his language choices.  He is obviously well read - I picked up on little waves and nods to Plato, Edward Abbey, Foucault, and, of course, Shakespeare - which helps, of course.  But there's this intrinsic writerly quality about him that, I think, he acknowledges, and embraces, in "The Dancers".  Performance is the heart of performing.  Those whose art we love, love to make art - whatever the medium.  Brian Wilson wrote "God Only Knows" about music.  A love song to his form.
   In sharing vivid memories and anecdotes, Shurin becomes a philosophical spokesman for "the" counterculture.  He seems to have found a home and a family along the margins and his adventurous streak could lead him to no better place than the other side of the proverbial margin.  His surrealism, his transcendent moments, feel more honest and organic than many memoirs and biographies that remain firmly planted in reality.  I wanted to be reincarnated as Aaron Shurin.


    

Response to "the Writing Life"

     I chuckled as I read the reviews on the back of my copy of The Writing Life, particularly the one comparing it to the Tao Te Ching.  Littered with anecdotes and proverbs that apply not only to writing, but to life, I thought Dillard's work might deserve an alternate title - Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul. 
     "Consider your reader" is my personal mantra and, bound by my own perspective, one with which I sometimes struggle.  Dillard takes this one step further - reminding the writer of the reader by asking "why are we reading?" (72).  The writers' series only reinforced my idea - the only tie that binds writers is writing itself.  Writing is a compulsion.  The who, what, why, when, where, and how, regarding both reading and writing, are various, to say the least.  Writing is difficult - maybe even masochistic.  But the reward - the finished work - the opportunity to speak to others - is one that keeps us working.  A reader may derive his or her own meaning.  This is art.
     My favorite part of The Writing Life, hands down, was the story of the swallow, compelled by David Rahm's skyshow.  The swallow, uninhibited, was moved to create his own show.  He had to act.  On page 78 Dillard advises her fellow writers to simply produce - to make the internal external, regardless of time, organization, or any other inhibiting factor.  You can always reassemble the puzzle, but you must, like the swallow, just create.  Disorder is part of the process and it can be beautiful. 
     "If Rahm knew how he felt he could not have done the work" (119).  This is my new mantra.