I had an unforgettable few days in Orono this weekend, celebrating the launch of my new book at an annual gathering of Franco American artists known as the rassemblement. It’s a fascinating feeling to hold my work in my hands in its new (and beautiful!) form, and it was deeply meaningful to celebrate with friends, colleagues, and folks from the University of Maine Press, which published the book and did so much to elevate the work through their thoughtful treatment of the text.
The Orono launch was the first in a series of events that I’ll be presenting around New England this month. This week I’m headed to Plymouth State University and Saint Anselm College in New Hampshire. I hope you’ll join us if you’re in the area — or reach out if you’re interested in planning something where you are.
Gratitude
In English, we often describe gratitude as a debt. We owe gratitude. We feel indebted. But indebted isn’t a very positive way to feel, and I think that says a lot about how we think about kindness and generosity in our culture.
As I get older and, these days, as life gets more complicated, I realize that when I practice gratitude, I’m really opening myself up to embracing and experiencing fully my good fortune. Feeling gratitude gives me a chance to fully receive the gifts I’ve been given. I feel aware of the ways in which others have made it possible for me to move forward, change course, heal, and grow in ways I could never do on my own.
This book is the result of the work of many people and the support and encouragement of many others, over a matter of years. I’m delighted that, through my book launch events, I get the chance the celebrate the book as both a personal and a collective accomplishment.
Faith in the Collective
I am finding great comfort these days in environments, such as theater, that invite us to gather in with others to share an experience of joy, hope, or meaning. It’s not just good for our brains, but for our bodies, our creaturely selves.
Part of what I appreciate about solo performance is that the audience feels some intuitive sense of heightened responsibility. Seeing a single performer make their way through the journey of a show demands something different of us. We sense their aloneness and bring a different measure of engagement to our role as an audience member.
There is no audience in culture. Culture is something in which we are all active participants and makers. This is something our cousins and neighbors in Quebec understand better than we do — that they have a shared responsibility for what their culture looks like and how it grows, because they are making it together. We shape the cultures in which we live — in our country, our towns, our neighborhoods, our workplaces — through our choices, our behaviors, how we choose to show up. Magical things can happen when we show up believing that our behavior matters, that we are not just spectators, but co-creators. So pay attention. Notice the places in your life where you are acting like a spectator when some other kind of attention or energy might be called for.
This weekend reminded of how deeply I believe in the power of the collective — what we can accomplish together, what we can learn from each other, and especially how, when we gather in an open-hearted way, how we can lift each other up, as if on a giant wave, from the crest of which we can see things that would otherwise be too distant on the horizon for us to see.
I’m so grateful for the engagement and attention that this weekend’s audience shared with me, for the little world we created together for just an hour or two. I hope we can do it together again soon.
P.S. You can order a copy of the book here. / Or, from Canada, use this link to purchase.
ABBY PAIGE 
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