This morning I'm heading out to a meeting at the Waterville Public Library. I was invited to talk to the librarian about potential workshop ideas, which is exciting, though I don't yet know what she has in mind or what my role would entail.
I'm also prepping myself for an upcoming interview about my role as a literary community organizer . . . which is not a monicker I might choose for myself but does, in a way, encompass my guerilla forays into the schools, my writings about artistic individuality and connection, our blog reading projects, my constant fretting over the welfare of my Frost Place teachers, even, maybe, my local musical life. The question, I guess, is "What does community mean?" What are its physical boundaries? Or does it have any?
Anyway, the interviewer has asked if any of my comrades might be willing to speak with her about their reactions to my so-called community work. If you're interested in talking to her, let me know. And thanks for being so willing to share your time.
1 comment:
Organizer has such a metallic sound, doesn't it? Certainly you have organizational skills; however, I think of you as a facilitator, mentor, teacher, advisor, coach, collaborator, encourager, and most importantly friend . As to what is community? Community has no physical boundaries. If it did, we would live in isolation even within our everyday lives of social interaction. Our Frost Place community is far-flung indeed and yet we connect and are held together on some special level. Most of us belong to many communities, some overlapping, some not. Yet, we knit our places in these groups into something that makes us unique, interesting and hopefully full-filling.
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