Dear Kin,
Samantha Harvey won the 2024 Booker Prize for Orbital, an astronaut’s view of earth. In this short book, she captures a sense of nature writing in the wilderness of space. Harvey wanted Orbital to be “a novel about beauty, and about joy … the rapture of looking at something so beautiful that also happens to be our home.” (NPR)
In her acceptance speech, Harvey said, “It’s hard to not acknowledge the imperfections of the world we live in today. What we do to the earth, we do to ourselves, and what we do to life on earth, human and otherwise, we do to ourselves.” She dedicated the prize to those who give voice to the voiceless, and to peace.
I am united with Harvey’s vision. I continue working through the mystery of Hurricane Helene's lessons. She has alternately been called a hurricane, a tropical storm, and more recently, I refer to her as ‘the storm.’ Yesterday, I read a neighbor’s post that named Helene as one of two storms that collided to create a major geological change. A geological change happens over decades and millennia (e.g. glaciers melting). Yet the geological change in the southern Appalachians happened within 48 hours. There were more than 1000 landslides, 300 in my county. Huge chunks of local roads and highways are missing. The Swannanoa River flooded. Winds gusted to 80 miles per hour. 52 days later, the military is still here. Our town may have potable water again in mid-December. That’s close to one hundred days without drinking water, and that’s the best case estimate. That means showering in community stalls, using bottled water to brush your teeth, and trying to remember not to wash your hands in faucet water because, inevitably, you’re going to touch your face. It means you are utterly reliant on the kind people of the National Guard when you fill your drinking water jugs at the potable water station.
We say ‘thank you’ almost all day long.
Before the storm,
of Poetry & Process invited me to participate in his creation, the Exchange which he explains below. I finished my pieces just before the storm. Brian finished his last response recently. Then we went into production. I gasped when I re-read what I wrote. I cried. You may detect that. So, for my locals, if you are not up to reading about our Swannanoa River, I recommend checking my editor ‘s After the Flood guide. She provides epic writing prompts to work your way through what you experienced with Helene. ‘s work is exemplary, vital, kind, and so human. I believe we saw each other face to face, virtually, for the first time in one of ‘s writing workshops. Brian loves water. So, of course, I love Brian. Elena gave us a small number of minutes to do a flow write. Brian read his to our group. Without revision, just pen to paper, he brings you along to his cherished lake. Brian lives and loves poetry. At the same time, he has a job and family, including teenagers, to love. Here’s Brian.Kinship: An Exchange
A brief introduction
This week, you will have a newsletter in your inbox every day as I launch the second Exchange hosted on Poetry & Process. For those new to the format, An Exchange is an artistic exploration of a topic chosen by two artists. Once the topic is in hand, it is probed through poetry, essays, photography, and art. One participant completes a piece, then the other responds with a work of their own, and this exchange continues until the exploration is complete.
I am pleased to introduce my partner in this exchange, Katharine Beckett Winship. Katharine has been a supporter of Poetry & Process since the newsletter launched in May of 2023. I am beyond grateful for her support and the encouragement she has extended me throughout my poetic journey.
Together, we decided to address Kinship, the idea that Katharine explores in her newsletter, Matters of Kinship. There, she writes about the reciprocal relationship in nature and advocates for rights of nature, the view that natural communities are not just property that can be owned, but should have legal rights that protect their autonomy, in the same way that humans have rights that protect theirs.
We began this exchange over the summer but were interrupted when Hurricane Helene ripped through the southeastern United States, decimating the area of North Carolina that Katharine calls home. Much of Katharine’s work appears now as a foretelling of this event, and with that in mind, brings a different level of power and affirmation to the writing. For those personally impacted by Helene, particularly the Swannanoa River area of North Carolina, Katharine and I wish to express deep compassion for you.
When it comes to our human relationship to the natural world, there is a bravery that is needed at this time more than ever. The idea that kin is not just our blood relatives, but all our ancestors both human and nonhuman alike, is a truth that is paramount to the health of this world. Forgetting who is kin is the poison that ruins our environment, our politics, our homes, and our relationships with those who live next door. This forgetting is the root of a society’s downfall as it breeds desperation, greed, and hate. Those that remember our interconnectedness (in this case, the non-human society), while impacted, will live on past the downfall of those that forget. The question is, will we act from this view in a way where we are our own savior?
I hope you enjoy this series on Kinship. Part 1 from Katharine will be released on Monday, November 18, with a new part each day this week, wrapping up on Saturday. But more than just enjoyment, I hope these writings (and Katharine’s art) settle deep into your being, helping to open your eyes to just one additional kin in your world this week. See them, introduce yourself to them, and love them. We, the big collective we, need each other now more than ever.
Brian
Thank you for being here. If you’d like to hear Brian reading his letter above, hop over to his Substack
. (There are no dogs in the background:))And if you meet one additional kin, as Brian suggested, please tell us about your experience in the comments.in kinship, Katharine🌱
Katharine, thank you for this. I feel, despite our short earlier exchanges, I have just opened the door to meeting you.
In gratitude, Amy
Incredibly excited for this kinship!!
Thank you for this reminder…having lived through Katrina, “the storm,” I’m moved by your work.