About Earth and the Great Sea


When my friend Anne was nearing the end of  her life, she told me that if she could have one last journey, she would return to Catalina Island. Anne (writer, author, editor, teacher and best friend to her many friends and so dearly and tenderly loved by all of us) grew up in Avalon on Catalina Island before World War II. 
 
My grandfather's second wife also grew up on Catalina during these years and Anne was friends with my step-grandmother’s younger sister. Both families were not elite island people, they were the kids of hired hand workers and lived on a section of the island where only the workers lived. Life on the island was grand for Anne. She swam in the ocean daily, road her bike, hiked the hills and had a wide circle of happy riff-raff friends. 

But Ginger, who came to be my second grandmother, tried to fake it and did her best to fit in with the high-class island people and she was never accepted as equal. The pain she carried scarred her spirit. Anne didn’t bother herself with high society values, woes or wishful thinking. She reached for life with zest and found joy and meaning. 

But when the war broke out everyone was forced to leave the island. 
 
Over the years, long ago, I spent many weekends and vacations on Catalina. 
 
One afternoon when Anne was near the end of her full life circle, on a whim and very spur of the moment, I created my Earth and the Great Sea blog and I posted some of my Catalina Island photos for Anne, and I gave her the link. We talked about each photo and she told me rich backstories, with one memory jogging another. 
 
Anne led a journal writing circle for many years. After her walk on earth ended, I was lost, not only without Anne, but also without those up close and personal journaling sessions, and that's when I came up with the idea of using this blog for journaling online and sharing my stories like we did in Anne’s writing circles. 
 
And this is how my online journal here at Earth and the Great Sea, began. While giving myself an open field to explore, my focus also shifted toward reducing the clutter in my mind, or else I will have little to give to my soul, my family, friends, readers, community, and to the world at large. 

There is much more for me to discover. 
 
What I learned in Anne's journal writing classes and want to share with you.

Although I'm an essayist, a memoirist, the author of two memoirs, and a contributor to fifteen books, let's forget about all of that for now. Because everything I write and publish grows from something I have written in my journal. 

First, I set the timer on my phone for 10 minutes, and then with a pen and paper I write as fast as I can. I don't worry about spelling or punctuation, and I don't stop writing until the timer goes off. The purpose is to tap into my mind, and see what might be lurking in my subconscious. Later I pick my way through the scribbles and find nuggets I can expand on to share with you here in my online journal. But I don't share polished essays here, it's not my goal for these pages. I view it the way my writer-friend Patricia explains within her blogging pages. 

"This space isn't about performance or expectations. It is writing in its house clothes." 
 
Some people like to write in one of those pretty hard bound journals with a beautiful cover. But I prefer to write in a rugged composition book. The less fancy my journal, the easier it is for me to get down to the business of writing without feeling I need to live up to high expectations. 

Short, ten-minute timed writings also keep me from feeling like I need to live up to high expectations. When I have plenty of time, I continue writing in my journal after the timer goes off, and sometimes I write three or four pages of raw, rough draft thoughts. But even those short ten-minute journal writing sessions have great value. 

Through journal writing new discoveries about myself will be revealed, because our writing is smarter than we are. 
 
Anne taught me that everyone can write and that writing yields a path through the world we live in, and we can all write whether we call ourselves writers or not. 

Writing claims our world, and as spiritual beings writing is a powerful form of prayer and meditation, connecting us to our own insights and to a higher and deeper level of inner guidance. 

Terra Trevor
When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a wood-carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year. —Annie Dillard


We Who Walk the Seven Ways is Terra Trevor’s memoir about seeking healing and finding belonging. After she endured a difficult loss, a circle of Native women elders embraced and guided Trevor (mixed-blood Cherokee, Lenape, Seneca, and German) through the seven cycles of life in Indigenous ways. Over three decades, these women lifted her from grief, instructed her in living, and showed her how to age from youth into beauty. 

With tender honesty, Trevor explores how every ending is always a beginning. Her reflections on the deep power of women’s friendship, losing a child, reconciling complicated roots, and finding richness in every stage of life show that being an American Indian with a complex lineage is not about being part something, but about being part of something. 

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“Terra Trevor’s memoir is a gentle invitation to journey with her across decades, an invitation to notice with her as she seeks healing and finds belonging. There were phrases and sentences I underlined, places where I wept, passages that will remain with me as they drew me to insights I’d previously struggled to name. I closed the final pages and knew that in reading this book, I had been the recipient of a generous and much-needed gift. While I can certainly finish a book in a day, I chose to move slowly through this one, letting each idea, each paragraph, each reflection gently spill over me, allowing the pages to alter me in some way.” —Patrice Gopo, author of Autumn Song: Essays on Absence

 "Terra Trevor’s Pushing up the Sky is a revelation of the struggles and triumphs packed into the hyphens between Korean and Native American and American. From her, we learn that adoption can best be mutual, that the adoptive parent needs acculturation in the child’s ways. With unflinching honesty and unfailing love, Trevor details the risks and heartaches of taking in, the bittersweetness of letting go, and the everlasting bonds that grow between them all. With ‘Pushing up the Sky’, the ‘literature of adoption’ comes of age as literature, worthy of an honored place in the human story." —Robert Bensen, editor of Children of the Dragonfly: Native American Voices on Child Custody and Education