She Is Still Burning 17-18

The following remembrance and celebration of Mary Meigs’ life and friendships was also the final installment of She Is Still Burning, a fitting ending to a project that I’d begun simply because Michèle Causse sent me an e-mail saying, “Harriet, do something.” I don’t always rush to comply with the wishes of friends, but in this case, because it was Michèle issuing the order, I swung into action, and am glad of it. Thank you, Michèle. Thank you, Mary. And thank you to everyone who contributed to the brief fiery life of She Is Still Burning.

SHE IS STILL BURNING
An Expanding Reader To Encourage Life Lovers
Installment #17-18
21 June 2003

Now a thought trickles in like water giving life to dry clay. It is– “that bush over there is quite beautiful, it has been transformed by snow in less than half an hour. Once it was the flame tree, the vision that sang in October. Now it is a snow-blossoming March bush—and I croak my toad’s song under its roots.” (Mary Meigs, 21 March 2002)

Dear Friends,

This installment is a dual tribute: to Mary Meigs and to the powers of friendship. In it, you will hear her voice in the last year of her life, accompanied by the voices of friends grieving the loss of her and conjuring her presence back among us through their words.

There are many ways to know someone, even when it’s too late to phone her, send her a fax, mail her a letter or land on her doorstep. I hope you will enjoy coming to know Mary through these words and images, or coming to know aspects of her that you might not have known before.

Bon courage (and happy reading),
Harriet Ellenberger
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada

note: Painter and writer Mary Meigs (1917–2002) was born in Philadelphia, but lived the latter part of her life in Montreal. Talon Books in Vancouver published all five of her books: Lily Briscoe: A Self-Portrait (1981), The Medusa Head (1983), The Box Closet (1987), In the Company of Strangers (1991) and The Time Being (1997).

Those who never had the chance to meet her in person can still see her on film, playing herself at age 70—the witty, compassionate, outspoken lesbian artist who is the driving force in Cynthia Scott’s film In the Company of Strangers (NFB, 1990). The film is available on DVD or video as part of the “Modern Day Classics” series, under the title Strangers in Good Company.

“Who She Was,” a charming comic-strip story by Eve Corbel about her friendship with Mary, appears in the Winter 2002 issue of Geist magazine (Vancouver).


IN THIS INSTALLMENT

1) Betsy Warland: “A Remembering of Mary Meigs”
2) Suniti Namjoshi: “Mary’s Dream” and an extract from “The Good Witch Sycorax”
3) Claire Saint Aubin: “À bientôt Mary”
4) Sylvie Sainte-Marie: “Elle est apparue dans ma vie” and “Soledad”
5) Verena Stefan: “Agitation on a Brick Wall”
6) Cynthia Rich: “Seeing Mary”
7) Lise Weil: “Freewriting with Mary”
8) “Feathers”: correspondence between Mary Meigs and Harriet Ellenberger
9) Mary Meigs, “Dead Flicker 1985”

Continue reading She Is Still Burning 17-18

She Is Still Burning 2 (Nov 2000)

The history continues, with a reminder of context: in November 2000, you could get on an airplane without taking off your shoes first, and no one put their hands on your body; you could travel between Canada and the US without a passport; there was no Patriot Act passed by a Congress that didn’t read it, and no Homeland Security.  No “War on Terror”  either. Iraq was still an intact country, as was Syria.

SHE IS STILL BURNING
An Expanding Reader To Encourage Life Lovers
Installment #2
11 November 2000

Dear Friends,

What were the responses to the first installment? They ranged from the funny to the profound, but they all gave me what Jeannette Muzima refers to as “a jolt of hope.” Below is a sampling:

Suzanne Cox: “I feel very lucky to be getting it in today’s world of market, piggies go to market. I cannot believe it is free.” (This was in response to her suggesting that I should at least charge $5, and my replying IT HAS TO BE FREE. Maybe I am being stubbornly impractical with this project, but the greenback god from hell rules our collective life to a degree that was unimaginable when I was growing up—and I purely hate calculating my every move in terms of money. She Is Still Burning will remain what it was conceived to be: a gift, to myself as much as to anyone else.)

Jeannette Muzima: “Thank you for creating this. I look forward to reading, contributing, laughing, raging, and re-igniting.”

Rawi Hage: “I know many shes with eternal fires in them.”

Madelaine Marin: “Et BRAVO! pour le lancement de SHE IS STILL BURNING! FEU dont le besoin se fait si grandement sentir tant la chaleur est absente de nos isolements respectifs.” (rough translation: And bravo! for the making of SHE IS STILL BURNING—a fire we feel need of to the degree that warmth is missing from our respective solitudes.)

My thanks to all who responded. “Every woman deserves her own hallelujah chorus,” says Clarissa Pinkola Estès—and so does She Is Still Burning.

This installment appears three weeks after the first one, which feels to me like a pretty good rhythm. I do She Is Still Burning in between working on contracts for my editing/translation business, so the installments happen when they happen. If it’s more than a month between installments, that doesn’t mean the project is dead. It means I’m up against a deadline.

All this said, welcome to the continuation of She Is Still Burning!

Bon courage (keep your spirits up),
Harriet Ellenberger
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada


IN THIS INSTALLMENT

1) “Love Prints” by Jeannette Muzima (a love poem is about the world)
2) “The Castle” by Rawi Hage (a childhood memory of war)
3) “Who Really Did Write Don Quixote?” (a question for readers)
4) “Faye’s Notebook, Part I: The Most Terrifying Thing I Ever Heard” by Harriet Ellenberger (Faye is a less restrained and more playful version of myself. Excerpts from her notebook may appear regularly … or they may not.)


Continue reading She Is Still Burning 2 (Nov 2000)

Mimo

Mr. Bear took this photo of Mimo in late August 2015, when the young red  squirrel initiated a friendship with him. For the next few weeks, Mimo would come each time Mr. Bear did his squirrel-imitation (sort of a whistle, sort of a chk-chk-chk).

But in early September Mimo found a girlfriend, and suddenly he was too busy to play and he didn’t need any human to talk with either. Mimo and Girlfriend have now squirreled away food for the winter in every good tree-cache in the back and on the slope down to the creek. And they converse with each other incessantly.

It’s Talkative True Love.