Standing On Each Other's Shoulders

not all pyramids are schemes

I am fresh off four days spent with fellow writers—artful souls making sense of the world through words. Some academic. Some poetic. Some creating worlds that make the rest of us feel more at home in this one.

While it was a bit overwhelming to be with so many faces I have seen only through screens, to discover the fullness of their bodies (“You have legs!”), I gained a deeper sense of connection by being in the same room, the same time and space. There’s something neutralizing about breathing the same air.

two of my housemates and writerly friends, Missy Bari & Jenai Auman

I was also reminded how much we need each other. Now before you brush off this non-revelatory thought often hand-lettered and hung in our homes (I can almost hear the eye rolls, the inner thoughts of “Yeah, yeah, Sarah, we know…”), stay with me for a moment.

No matter our occupation or location, people are not formed in a vacuum. Even we writers who tend to be a solitary crew are an amalgamation of what has come before. Yes, the bulk of the work is done alone, with no one watching over our shoulders as we wrestle with word choice and commas and wondering if we’ve overdone the em dashes. But that does not mean there are no shoulders involved.

This past week, I was acutely aware of all the fingerprints that have (and continue to) touch my work. Every word, every thought, every story stands on the shoulders of people who have come before me. The Way of Belonging echoes with wisdom that did not begin with me.¹ Any goodness I have gained has been shared, because books are not made in isolation and neither are we.

Everything builds.
Everything grows.
Everything rides piggyback on the shoulders of another as we enter the discourse, as we ask our own questions or use our own voices.

me & the lovely Prasanta Verma, whose book Ethnic Loneliness releases Tuesday!

It’s hard to see the formation as it happens, but all these little whispers matter. And once in a while, it’s good to have space to look back or look into the faces of the people who have hoisted you on their shoulders, one way or another. It’s good to remember how it feels to have someone save a seat for you at the table, especially when you’re wrestling in the cave of your mind and wondering whether you really belong. It’s good to consider how we are part of a much wider conversation and how we fit into the whole.

I had to leave the conference a little early (life keeps happening, even when you’re away)², but as I drove home through Midwestern farmland, field after field of rich soil surrounded by ember green grass, my heart swelled with gratitude for the generosity of every word, every touch, every rejection, every edit, every encouragement that has shaped me along the way. The list is long and ongoing and unlikely to end. And while not every person, every book, every conversation is an up-close or long-term friend, the giving still matters, as stories extended become part of our own.

Sara Billups is the real deal. What a gift to share some space.

Writers, like all humans, have their moments of grasping. We wrestle between the instinct of self-protection and the desire to trust. We have collected wounds, wisdom we would not have chosen. And it’s easy to want to hold tightly to what is ours, to look suspiciously at anyone who calls us “friend” a little too quickly.  So while we must exercise prudence and discernment in our collaborations, my prayer is that we will not lose tenderness toward one another and generosity will become the lifeblood of our work.

May we remain grateful for the people who have come before us, resisting the urge to hoard the goodness we have been given, and take our place within the human pyramid. As we rest on the shoulders of our predecessors, may we let go of the desire to side-eye or one-up and create a little space on our own shoulders instead.

“The important thing is to recognize that our gift, no matter what the size, is indeed something given us, for which we can take no credit, but which we may humbly serve, and, in serving, learning more wholeness, be offered wondrous newness.”

—Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

an incomplete list of the shoulders offered to me over the years

1. Wisdom, I might add, that I was careful to cite and source.

2. I was horrible at taking pictures, and there were so many people who I did not get to hug goodbye. (Forgive me!) Please know how grateful I am for each conversation, each hello, each awkward glance of recognition. It was so good to be with you all.