“Happy” July 4th,
I cannot mince words. After yet another SCOTUS bomb, I honestly think we’re in the most dangerous moment for America of my lifetime (and that dates back to the 50s). It feels like we’re collectively dangling from democracy’s precipice by our fingernails—and have been for the past two years.
In fact, it was exactly two years ago, on July 4, 2024, that I received a note from my wondrous niece Rachel Liu with an invitation to leave the darkness and focus just for a moment on the light of the future— specifically, her child A., who was about to come of age, in the traditional sense. Rachel wrote:
13 is a big moment, a coming of age that, in many cultures, involves ritual and ceremony.
The family had made plans to honor this moment with a ritual walk-about in the form of camping and foreign travel. But the ceremony that Rachel conceived would involve all of us. Like a wedding or graduation, this special gathering would serve to remind A. that life is lived in community, that growing up is not a solitary challenge but a communal passage, and that maturity is as much about belonging as it is about being.
It would be a gathering in words.
Rachel asked:
Instead of a gift this year it would be so special if you’d write him some advice about growing up.
At first, I’ll admit, this challenge stumped me. My own sons came of age more than twenty years ago, another century in more ways than one. And how dare I give advice about growing up in the mess that my generation has strewn in its wake? A deep apology and confession of culpability seemed more appropriate. I stalled for days.
But finally I took a deep breath, sat myself down, and let the words find each other. As I wrote, I felt an unexpected sense of peace and hope wash through me. For all my despair about the evils that menace us, this assignment reminded me that the greatest source of strength we possess is still our faith in humanity. And the greatest well of power that we have to tap into is still our ability to connect—to ourselves, to each other, and to the universe of miracles that we call nature: life on earth.
I’ve done a lot of research and writing about human connection in my nonfiction and ghostwriting over the years. I know the biological underpinnings of this organic social superpower. I know that it’s universal and real. And I know better than to give up on it, no matter how dire the moment. This, I realized, was the wisdom I needed to share with Rachel’s child.
It was also wisdom I badly needed to share with myself. And maybe, I thought when I’d filled A.’s birthday card, it’s wisdom that you could use, too.
So, with Rachel’s permission, I’m sharing this invitation as a July 4th writing prompt. What advice would you give a beloved 13-year-old coming of age today? What advice would you give yourself if you could step outside the current moment?
I hope you’ll be gentle and kind and brave with your wisdom. And I hope you will find the same zone of calm as your reward that I felt when writing this:
To A. on Your 13th Birthday
May you love the life that is unspooling before you.
May you give your full attention to the passions that await you.
May you discover a world of joy and adventure, love and generosity.
May you explore the magic of human connection with an open heart and mind.
May you embrace your mistakes as eagerly as you do your victories, and learn just as much — or more— from them.
May you be kind and patient—yes, with others, but especially with yourself.
May you delight in an abundant future filled with wonder and awe.
The Art of Connection
As so often happens, in a cosmic gesture of synchronicity, the following poem showed up in my inbox, just as I was starting on this post. It’s one of the daily gifts I receive from my dear friend, poet, and photographer Thomas A. Thomas, but the resonance of this poem with my experience as I wrote to A. took my breath away :
My words to you
My words to you are the stitches in a scarf
I don’t want to finish
maybe it will come to be a blanket
to hold you here
love not gone anywhere
~ Jean Valentine, from the collection Shirt In Heaven
Thomas accompanied this poem, as he does each day, with one of his exquisite photographs:
Stay safe and calm as you carry on.
Happy Independence Day!
Lovely words to him