Allison Moorer: The Autotelic

I’ve always had practices. Daily devotionals, journaling, praying, meditating, writing 500 words a day, yoga—the list of habits, some come and gone, some still around—is extensive. The one common denominator of them all is seeking connection, mostly to spirit and to myself. I’m a digger. I love research and the hunt for the hidden pearl, even if it’s one inside of me. I looked through some old sketchbooks while I was deep in my decluttering project the other day. I remembered using the style.

Every so often, it is time for rest. This weekend has been that time for me. There’s cool air in the breeze encouraging me to keep leaning in to the questions that continuously arise. Stillness is required. I’m taking a little time to restore and think.

I apologize for not posting yesterday. I had computer issues. I was a home troll all weekend, which I loved—I needed to get some rest after an intense period that began in August and hasn’t really let up. The deaths have slowed down, but people are still crazy. Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation. Healing is an act of communion. —bell hooks I’m digging on a few cool things right now.

I am a fall reset person. I’m sure it has to do with my love of school. When I was a girl, I wanted to get out of school for summer vacation as bad as anyone, but I was always ready to go back earlier than anyone else seemed to be. A new grade, a new set of possibilities. I’m deep in a major decluttering project. I tackled my workroom and the library today and already feel so much lighter than I did. Stuff isn’t free, not in any way.

I’ve been thinking about how to write about the past two weeks all day long. I couldn’t figure how I would be able to say what I want to say within the confines of my usual list, so I decided to step away from it for a little while. It will return in some form, but for now, my thoughts aren’t that organized. Not even a week after we lost Dolly, my beloved grandmother passed away less than a month away from her 100th birthday. Y’all know her as Nanny, my Mama’s mama.

As I said last Tuesday in one of the interviews I did just after the news broke about Dolly Parton’s passing, we knew she wasn’t doing well, but it was still a shock to get the news that she’d left us. When the news reached our office at the museum, everything went quiet. It felt like the air got sucked out of the room and no one knew what to do. After a few minutes the phones started blowing up.

“Holding on is a survival tactic born out of fear and scarcity. Fear is the craving for safety. A mind that is dominated by fear is a mind that is still in survival mode. Even when there is a relative calm in our external environment, a mind that lives in survival mode will adopt a defensive stance and will often explore imaginary scenarios of what could go wrong as a way to remain prepared. —Yung Pueblo It’s been an Astral Weeks kind of week.

I guess I’m always contemplative this time of year. August is heavy. This coming Wednesday is the forty year anniversary of my parents’ deaths. The date looms each year— I invariably go through the choreography of it all thinking “this is the day we…” and I try to remember as much as I can. It’s so far away now, the details aren’t quite as sharp as they once were, but I’ll never forget how I felt during the few days before they died. Some days it’s hard to think about anything else.

“Draw Near” Whatever it is you wish to marry, Go, absorb yourself in that beloved, assume its shape and qualities. If you wish for the light, prepare yourself to receive it; if you wish to be far from God, nourish your egoism and drive yourself away. If you wish to find a way out of this ruined prison, don’t turn your head away from the Beloved, but bow in worship and draw near.

At a certain point in the evening I finally sit down. It’s crazy how much I go, when I think about it, and through days that feel like perpetually catching up just to keep my head above water, I somehow cross things off my to do list. This weekend—the yard and the encroaching, high summer suffocation that only the dog days can bring. I’m grateful I made myself learn how to replace the string in the string trimmer. And to cut the grass.