Today I’m re-blogging a piece written by my daughter in response to a literature conference that my institution sponsored this last weekend. It’s a good reminder of the necessity of beauty, of language, and of a continued belief in meaning.
I’ve spent the last few days at the Making Literature Conference at Taylor University. It’s a small conference at a small college in a small town. It’s an undergraduate conference, with sessions featuring undergraduate work read by and to undergrads. I lingered at the edges, an English major half a decade out.
It was three days filled with things I love: small things like new books, and their smell; slick new folders and coordinating pens; book fairs and branded tote bags (I have a weakness for tote bags).
There were deep conversations and thoughtful moments: a perfectly turned sentence; a powerful, bite-sized poem; an hour-long lecture on the thought that goes behind the translation of a single phrase.
It was days full of things that matter to me—discussions on feminism, privilege, justice, conservation, creativity, language, beauty.
I’ve been left exhausted, depleted—the feeling from long days spent among many strange…
View original post 234 more words