Saying Yes

Saying Yes

See how one yes can build on itself,

can yield to another yes and another until

it becomes a way of being in the world,

and you decide to name this day The Church

of a Thousand Yeses, where you worship

and pray to the space of every open door.

Yes to the glint of river beyond your window

and the stream of grief running through you

just beneath the concealing skin, its rush

and roar hidden inside the blood. Yes to

missing your beloved, now thousands

of miles away back home, tossing and turning

in bed, waking without you—and yes to

the pleasure of this sunrise over the water,

fresh light burning off the nimbus of fog

as you walk along an empty street with only

a blowing candy wrapper for company,

each of your yeses laid out like bricks

beneath your feet, leading you deeper

into the center of a larger life that waits

inside this one.


Any creative life—any life, really—is made up of a series of daily yeses, each one building upon the next. We don’t just say yes to everything, of course, but instead practice opening the door to what feels right for us, and what may also challenge us, pushing the boundaries of what is comfortable. I was recently on the road, speaking and teaching at two wonderful venues—a UU Church in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and a community college in Owensboro, Kentucky. During each talk and workshop session, I spoke of the power of saying yes to small things that bring us alive, and yes to the daily writing that has become an integral part of my own spiritual practice. We tend to think that in order to accomplish big things we must stay lashed to our desks for eight or more hours at a time, and we underestimate the smaller yeses of a more incremental creative practice—just an hour or two a day whenever we can, or less if that’s what we can manage. People often marvel at how prolific I am these days, but the truth is, all of the books and offerings I create are simply the product of showing up for small amounts of time each day, even while I am traveling.

One morning, as I walked along the Ohio River in Owensboro, watching fog slowly lift off from the bridge stretched over the water, I thought of all the many yeses that had led me to that moment, in awe of the way the practice of yes can reshape a life, even the willingness to try something new when we secretly believe it won’t work out. I’ve mostly been a cautious, “say no” kind of person, protective of my time and energy, afraid of giving too much, uncomfortable with being the center of attention. Yet there is a time for yes, and a time for a strong no, too. I have learned that when a new project frightens me, when it feels most vulnerable and challenging—that is the time to say a gentle yes, in order to keep growing. And then I must agree to it all—yes to the excitement of a new venture, and yes to the pressure and fear that will come with the assent. Yes to the burst of joy that rises from the center of the stream of grief or despair also running through me. These yeses, though difficult to practice, eventually lead us into the center of a much larger life we might never have dared to imagine for ourselves. Thrilling, nourishing, annoying, and at times very inconvenient—yes, but ours all the same every time we decide to say one little yes to what calls to us, then another, and another.


Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Set aside a day or chunk of time when you can enter your own “church of a thousand yeses,” saying yes to what’s comfortable and easy, and to the challenging and messy as well. You might also go in the opposite direction, if you are more of a “yes person” already, exploring the power of saying no, and the space that practice can offer, too.

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Please consider joining me for a gentle, supportive 4-week poetry retreat/webinar via Zoom that will focus on the braided nature of grief and joy with some of my absolute favorite poets and humans. Due to the generosity of this community, there are a number of half-off scholarships (just send an email to me to request more info). Starting on Fridays at 1pm ET on October 17th (all sessions recorded and shared). There will be time to write from poems and prompts by our guests, and poems and prompts from my new book, Turning Toward Grief (now available for pre-order from my local indie Battenkill Books or wherever you buy your books!). I can’t wait to be in conversation with these poets and each of you:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/1549101216439?aff=oddtdtcreator