Good Bones, the book.
Good Bones
By Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real s#&*@hole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
I discovered this poem last week while listening to a podcast interview with writer/poet Maggie Smith.
As usual, I’m late to the party. “Good Bones” became a viral sensation in 2017. Somehow, I missed it.
But now that I’ve found it, I find myself going back to the poem and reading it again and again.
Good writing impacts us in a special way, if we slow down and take the time to read, absorb, and think.
I’m not a big fan of poetry, although I love song lyrics and consider the best songwriters to be poets.
Still, I love words, and good writing has a way of helping me make sense of the world. As someone who writes—a lot—I long for the times that I can get into what they call “flow” state.
Flow isn’t something you can summon; it just happens—rarely for me — but it’s a real thing. In between flow states you rely on craft, the muscles you’ve developed by writing for years and years.
I’m in awe of great writers because I know how hard it is to write at a level that moves hearts and minds. I am not a great writer, but I aspire to be. And I write in the hope that someday I will experience—even for a moment– what it must feel like to write like Maggie Smith or Maya Angelou or my new writing crush Chisa Hutchinson.
The Good Bones touched me because I’m distressed by the state of our union and our world. Division is no bueno. No good ever comes from hatred, recrimination and callousness.
The Good Bones reminds us of what sustains us amidst the chaos and horror and relentless crazy of this time.
Here’s a list:
Connection and friendship.
Moments of respite when we can recharge and renew.
Creativity, kindness, kinship and care.
Beauty, generosity, excellence and meaning.
It also reminds us that we have a role to play. We are not just passive actors that allow things to happen to us, we are people who have the power to shape our destinies and determine our destination. We are called to bring beauty into this world.
“This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.”
Indeed, we can.
Last week, my colleagues and I spent some time with the CEO of a nonprofit called FLIPANY.
Flipany provides nutritious food to thousands of people in South Florida every day. They serve 130 plus sites over a vast region with lots of needs. It’s a logistical miracle pulled off every day.
I find beauty in that story of grit and determination. The founder started with one site serving 40 children and grew the organization into a trusted partner for schools, camps, churches, community centers, senior citizen facilities etc.
She’s tough as nails. Resourceful too. But there’s a beauty to her work, she brings love and sustenance into the world.
I was glad she made the trip from Dania Beach to Delray Beach to spend some time….
So why is it important to seek out beauty.? Why should we remember “good bones” and seek to understand what it means?
Maybe, it’s too remind us who we’ve been; to remind us that those good bones are still somewhere in our DNA. So, we are reminded of what beauty and goodness look like, so that when it shows up in our world, we can see it.
We have good bones in America. We have good bones in this community. We should strive not to break those bones. We should strive to make this world beautiful.
