Later today I have my final graduate reading and then –poof– I graduate with an MFA in Creative Nonfiction. My feeling about the whole thing is similar to how I felt when I saw this ant hill on a hike yesterday: They must have had some significant help with this. (And if they didn’t, clearly I should elevate my judgment of ants’ potential). So have I had significant help.
What beauty! To have had so much help and support over these last two years. My family, Karl-Peter, all the students in my MFA cohort, Lauren Winner and Paula Huston, my mentors. Thank you thank you thank you, talented all.
I have been ruminating since my last residency on something the MFA Program Director Greg Wolfe said about communion—about what it means that the bread and wine we take as metaphor for Christ’s body and blood given for us are made, crafted works of art with centuries of passed on expertise and skill, rather than the raw materials– flour and yeast and salt, or ripe grapes. Bread, I have learned this year, is an extremely challenging craft. As is writing. To share in communion with others something that represents years of work, the product of countless invested hands–is a real gift.
This graduation day, this particular communion with friends and family, is joyous, but also, a breaking.