By Scott Morgan

Prompt: Write about something you believed but have changed your mind about.

You’d think I’d remember the day my certainty died. I only remember the foreshock. The night I came down the stairs and said, I think my marriage is over.

We were done, and that was fine. I don’t miss her and I never did.

But I do miss the certainty.

A year before I had that conversation, I was just so sure. Of everything. The arrogance of dying youth, perhaps. The naïveté of someone who’s convinced himself he knows things.

He doesn’t believe. He knows.

Well.

Somewhere in the subsequent two years, my worldview collapsed because my certainty died. And it was a death.

Certainty is such a cozy blanket on top of such a comfy bed. It gives you license to indulge in safe routines. To lose it feels like a nuclear bomb. The aftermath is gray and endless.

Until you consider that you might not be facing a blank void, but a blank page.

I recently read the novel and saw the movie Conclave (Robert Harris). In both, the character of Cardinal Lomeli (Lawrence in the movie) speaks about the sin he’s most come to fear: certainty.

I wasn’t expecting to be brought up out of my chair by a fictional monologue. And yet here I was, leaning forward, eyebrows properly twitched and eager.

Certainty, his eminence argues, is the death of curiosity. Compassion. Tolerance. The Church’s strength lies in its diversity and in its doubt — without which, the cardinal offers, there would be no need for faith.

Church or not, faith takes courage. Faith is vulnerable, because it’s such a gamble. It doesn’t always pay off. And while faith does walk hand-in-hand with doubt, the other hand walks with hope. Certainty isn’t anywhere to be found.

All of which makes me sound very sure of myself. But I’m only sure that I have no idea what I know. Faith has replaced certainty, and it’s better over here.

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By Scott Morgan

Prompt: Define what “cosplaying life” — not like at Halloween, or a Ren Faire, like when someone dresses as a character — means to you.

I don’t cosplay poverty because despite that the electric company would occasionally shut off the power for unpaid bills,

— despite that half of the clothes I wore as a kid were 15 years out of style,

— despite that dinner was often leftovers for lunch at the school where my dad worked,

— despite that I thought going out to a restaurant with my parents was a bona fide vacation,

— despite getting into fights in school over my K-mart knock off sneakers that I had to wear until the holes wore through,

— despite that mom would furnish the house with goods paid for on Layaway,

— despite all that, I never really went unsheltered, unclothed, or unfed.

I might have worn rags, but I wore. I might have eaten crap, but I ate. I might have grown up in Trenton, NJ, but I could close my door, and I survived.

And despite not trying to cosplay poverty for some bullsh*t street crud, it bothers me when someone of means tries to relate to people who’ve really had it rough.

I don’t know how it is these days to need to take a bus to shop for food, just because I did that for a news story.

I didn’t write that story. That would be disrespectful. It’s not my lived experience, it’s my role play. I could stop the simulation anytime I wanted to.

A friend who grew up wealthy — not rich — wealthy, had a father who’d grown up on actual dirt floors.

He was a Cardinals fan because seeing cardinals every spring meant hunting, and he could eat again.

He would occasionally shut off the power to teach his kid — my friend — that everything could go away at any time.

My friend told me this as if she understood the real power shutting off and not being sure when it would come back on.

Recently, I read an “experience piece” by someone who’d spent the night in a shelter.

I imagine it’s a noble goal, but being well-intentioned and being intentional about solutions should not be confused as the same thing.

Empathy has an ugly side-effect, which is the creation of ingroups, and, by extension, the creation of them.

And yet how do we love without empathy?

Life is complicated.

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By Scott Morgan

Prompt: In what areas have you grown by attending this writing workshop?

I’ve learned that I like people a whole lot more than I had believed.

That it’s okay to sit in a room with strangers and become a not stranger.

I’ve made actual friends.

It’s getting to have your trust. The things some fellows have shared have really landed. And you took a shot and opened up and let it out, and it’s reminded me that people aren’t always to be wary of, to hide from.

My first five years in Rock Hill, I made a few friends who weren’t. The subsequent year and a half have been shaped by being in this room, with real people.

It helps me trust.

It’s helped me open up to others — and it’s been working out well.

This workshop gives me something to look forward to. A reset. I didn’t know how much I’d needed that.

It’s taught me about how quickly life can change in good ways.

And it reminds me how much I love and how much I miss the library where it all started.

I’m not the type to take others’ praise or admonishments to heart, but I feel utterly un-judged here.

Here, I’ve come to trust, because I’m not that radio guy to you. Most of you don’t even know my first name.

Certainly not my last name.

You just know a guy in the writing group.

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I love the word mystery!

It implies things needed to be uncovered and discovered.

Once a mystery is solved, there is always another!

There are endless clues to lost treasures and stories untold.

Following a path to collect,

all the pieces,

brings about curiosity and grit.

Being courageous enough to brave the oceans and depths,

of where the mystery leads you

feels fantastically exciting and without regret.

Trace the lines and connect the dots,

to all the uncertain parts

and eventually they will come together,

to create a story or maybe piece of art.

The mystery, the secrets, and hidden things

are the adventures where everyone wins.

We read about them in books-

We watch them in movies and TV-

We hear them in lyrics and songs that we sing-

How can all of these people be wrong?

What is the mystery to solve about love?

Where are the hidden things that will help us?

Who has the key to unlock secrets and open up?

I suppose that is why,

it is a mystery, a secret, or a hidden thing,

All the questions can make your head spin!

Judge a book by its cover -

And you will never know what is inside.

Endless emotions, a myriad of stories,

Traumas and joys, experienced and contrived.

So what is there to hide-

In a mystery or a secret,

Just a puzzle to solve-

Because we are all curious on the inside.

Lovers of nature and prose,

Appreciating sunlight and rain,

Is there a mystery in a rainbow?

Becoming endless supports of our

own domain!

Aren’t we each our own mystery-

Carrying a secret or possessing a hidden thing?

Why not have fun and try to solve the darn thing!

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I read it three times, trying to discern the difference or the similarity. Looking for clarity and a concrete example that my mind could make sense of.

Weirdly, it resonated more with a sensation in my chest, one of warmth and tingling. As if they are one and the same, two sides of the same coin, each with a slightly different perspective.

I continue to read the words and they get jumbled like a tongue twister, causing me to giggle out loud!

Am I abnormally normal or normally abnormal? I struggle to decipher it.

At the same time it feels as if there is a finger pointing at me and a quiet voice in the shadows whispering, “this is you, don’t you see it?”

I think I do sometimes, but do they see it too? Do I want them to see this, to know that I am abnormally normal and normally abnormal?

Now I have said it and written it three times! Is it like Beetlejuice or Voldemort?

I am leaning towards normally abnormal. Normal feels regular and I don’t feel regular so it seems to make more sense! To me? To whom? To you? To them? Today? Tomorrow?

Ok how about this:

Normally abnormal- is normal on the outside and abnormal on the inside.

Abnormally normal- is abnormal on the outside and normal on the inside.

This makes me feel like I am in a Shel Silverstein poem, which I adored as a child.

Tongue twisters, rhymes, funny and not funny-

A b n o r m a l l y n o r m a l

N o r m a l l y a b n o r m a l

Nonsensical and silly. Does it matter which way I go or choose?

Take a break and try another day! Who’s to say?

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My invisible backpack carries all the memories of the past and dreams of the future.

It holds the growth that is not linear but almost maddening. There are secret pockets on the inside, full of sunshine and quiet moments too.

The outside design, I imagine to be a pattern similar to a patchwork quilt, mismatched fabrics that are bright and colorful, and seamlessly belong together.

Packed in tightly around the metaphors of emotions and heartfelt inspirations, are my journals and sketchbooks. Photographs of my children and dogs sit next to my collections of rocks and crystals. And close to the top, are small bags filled with pencils, markers, and paints.

I feel most excited about the fun stuff! I wish to offload some of the heaviness, even if it is just a little to make more space for creativity and new collections.

I dream that my backpack would be large enough to house my favorite books, poems, and movies!

In the side pockets there are treats tucked in safely for a rainy day. Among them would be chocolate candy, cinnamon gum, my favorite protein bars, and something salty and crunchy!

When I take the time to take inventory, I pause and feel gratitude for all of it. Taking a moment to release the things that I no longer need, letting them go with grace and love.

Sliding down in my comfy space I reach for the journal and my favorite pen to write some thoughtful words and a pencil to sketch the emotions. Here I notice the softness in my heart and the smile on my face.

My backpack is not just a holder of things that are special to me, it is the metaphor for all that I carry with me, past, present, and future. All the pieces that create me like the design on the outside, maybe mismatched and imperfect, but perfectly me.

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VALENTINE’S DAY

Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday. A celebration of love. I love myself, my family, my friends, my Jesus. I love macarons, medium-rare steak, sunshine, singing birds, epiphanies, a good beat, a great hair day, and picnics in the park. Love is in the air!

COLOR

Dear Lilac... I love you so. A close cousin to lavender, a descendant of purple. I love that you serve baddie when paired with black and pretty girl when paired with mint and mauve. Lilac... a light royal color. Inviting and inspiring.

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Prompt: Write about a memory anchored in a smell.

Memories are funny, especially when a simple smell like fresh cut grass or baking apples can evoke a time long forgotten in the back of your mind.

One smell that brings me back is damp earth. It seems so normal but it’s not just damp earth. It’s that mixed with the smell of camp fuel, brewing coffee and horses somewhere far off in the distance.

It’s mornings waking up at the New York Renaissance Faire. I spent summer weekends there from age 10-16. My sister and brother-in-law owned a popcorn company and I worked all different odd jobs at the faires. It ran from July to Labor Day weekend, but it was up in the New York mountains and nights got cold in August.

Waking up, bundled in sleeping bags and blankets, hoping you weren’t the first one awake so the fire would already be going.

Seeking out the smell of coffee, knowing that meant there would be water boiled for hot chocolate.

Hearing people singing off in the distance, children laughing as they ran up and down the field near our campsite.

Bacon would sizzle and pop outside the tents while my sister would knock on my tent pole.

“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

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Prompt: Write about fruit.

Prompt: What has been heavy on your heart lately?

Apples, oranges, raspberries, and blackberries.

That is all the current fruit in my house right now. Today.

Tomorrow there will be less of each. Come Friday there probably won’t be much left.

After Friday…

The government is closed. I’ve used all my EBT benefits to stock up on things to get us through as long as we can.

Fresh fruit won’t be on the list when the food starts to run out. Ramen. Spaghetti and PB & J will replace them as cheap alternatives.

I’m scared. For my family, for yours.

Elderly and children will starve. People will die. Children will be removed from their homes because their parents can’t provide for them.

We need help. We need change.

We need fruit.

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FAVORITE FOODS

Favorite foods?

There’s a meal I like with sour cream and soft shell.

Happy Tuesday! Tuesdays used to be the day to cook them and still is for some families.

Salt, pepper, garlic powder, chili powder, beef, olive oil, tomato paste.

I love the real Mexican tacos or burritos. Taco Tuesday. Taco Friday.

Happy tacos. Happy burritos. Yay, yay, yes, yes!

CHOICE

There’s a Mark Twain quote that’s a reminder of self-reflection, thought, accountability, and self-examination.

Be accountable for your ups and downs in life.

You have a choice to make.

Up or down. :)

IN ONE YEAR

One year from now I hope to keep climbing the ladder of great life travel experiences.

Going places and doing things I’ve never done. Being able to do it with a smile or grin on the face.

Continuing to laugh expansively and abundantly with no apologizing. Growing and flowing joyfully.

Never being sad, ashamed, mad, or miserable for what the Most High grants you.

There are no limits with Him at all.

FUNNY WORDS

The word dongle makes me think of Goof Troop and Goofy and Max. Although its meaning is: a small device connected to and used with a laptop or computer.

Argle-bargle comes to my floozy. You can brouhaha your way out of my face Argle-bargle.

Why do these funny words make me think of Disney characters?

Still goofy I know. Don’t call on Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck.

Okay, have a great day.

PRINCIPLES

How do I fit into the problem or solution?

By doing the right thing.

Solution thinking and actions by building with my actions, goals, and behavior.

Having the intentions to solve the problems with solution based actions only.

FAVORITE MOVIE

My favorite movie of all time?

That’s a challenging one for real.

If I have to get spiritual and dig deep down then it’ll have to be based on nature, tribes, family together, with some animals in the wilderness. The principles and morality approved by my heavenly Father.

The only classic movie that comes to my mind is a movie by the name of the Lion King. Although there were some sad moments, it reminded me of Cain and Abel.

Mufasa was a godly man. His brother was the opposite.

Simba, the son of Mufasa, learned to be godly.

It reminded me of Bible history. I’ve had many deep dreams that are like a treasure for me, because I know God revealed it to me.

This dates back to the 90s.

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SUPERMAN

As a kid my cousin and I would always play Superman. We thought we were Superman.

He even went out to get a VHS Superman tape of himself. His father paid for it.

But he and I would go back and forth as Superman 1 and Superman 2. He would always get the edge because I’m 5’10” and he’s 6’6” tall.

It was hilarious looking back at it.

Could you imagine multiple Supermans fighting each other or arguing with each other?

That was my six-foot-six cousin and five-foot-ten I.

BASKETBALL

One day when I was a teenager, I was playing a game of basketball. Five on five.

I got picked up to play the game. No one expected me to do anything. But I already practiced and played a lot. Like a hidden gem, a secret talent.

So the guys were talking trash. Acting as if they were better than they were. I kept quiet.

The other team was winning. I decided to play real.

My team started to make a comeback. I was contributing to the team on defense. Steals and blocks!

Then all of a sudden I started making jump shots and lay-ups. My team won and I made the winning game jump shot. My teammates ran and jumped on me celebrating.

It was fun.

PRESENCE

What I brought with me today was the presence of my Father. I talked to Him this morning. I prayed to Him this morning.

I spoke life, protection, grace, mercy, and strength over myself. I reminded myself why my Father is so important.

The One that will never let you down or betray you. The Most High is always the most reliable Spirit and presence to all His children on earth.

He reminded me why I trust Him the most, over any and all humans.

COMMUNICATION

It bothers me when someone tries to be close to me or get close to me without communicating to me about it.

Expecting me to be the one to break my neck, or to keep calling, texting, or chasing you down.

It doesn’t make sense.

You have to communicate well to me if you want to build together, grow together, and experience vacations and fun together.

BIG RED

My favorite fruit on the planet is something red.

As a child I used to call it “big red.” Also “magic red” is something else I would call it.

It’s funny looking back at it. My relatives would be wondering what I was talking about.

“Red Magic.”

“Big Red.”

It’s juicy. Yummy to the taste buds. You could add it to a flavor of juice, squeezing the juice out.

It’s a strawberry. Strawberry, strawberry!

Yummy.

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GRATEFUL

I’ve been taking it one day at a time.

Being reminded to not take anything for granted. Thinking about youth. Thinking about skin. Thinking about bones. Thinking about body.

How to not take those things for granted.

Remembering that those things could be taken away.

Every day is a reminder of my Father above.

SWEETS

If I could bring back some people for dinner, it would be someone that means a lot to me.

Someone that brought me a lot of laughs and smiles. Someone that could cook, bake, and make juice.

She was my favorite. Also she rewarded good behavior by giving you something of your choosing.

Surprise! It is my grandmothers. Both of their nicknames were Joyce and Sweetcake.

Sweetcake was great at baking cakes, brownies, etc. Joyce was great at cooking and baking desserts.

They enjoyed doing it. It was a happy affair when they were around. The aura!

GRANDMA JOYCE

I miss my Grandma Joyce. Because she always carried a high encouraging rich energy.

She could see things that others couldn’t see. She would tell someone about what she saw about them to encourage them. She did the same thing to her grandchildren.

What a blessing she really was.

She was inspiring above and beyond.

She told me to keep my head up always.

ERROR JORDANS

I’m an A+ student so I would love to have a pair of Jordans. The guardian parent says “no.”

The student says, “Why not? I’m an A+ student.”

The guardian says, “Because we said so.”

The student decides to become a thief and tries to steal some Jordan shoes and Jordan material.

He’s caught by a guardian and told, “You are dumb.”

Stealing is dumb, not smart. Don’t be a criminal.

You want Jordans, work for it. Get a job.

HOPING FOR GOOD

What are some things I’m hopeful for?

I’m really hoping for peace, joy, happiness, abundance, and keeping my head up. With the fire and ability to stay encouraged and be inspired.

Not lacking in peace, joy, gladness, and abundance. It requires a lot of meditation and self-examination, meaning you’re going to have to be accountable for your actions.

At the end of the day can you look yourself in the mirror and be content with yourself? With a smile or content stare.

Hopefully you can.

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Prompt: Write about things that are not dumb.

Things that are NOT dumb!

My dogs Auggie and Kiya. My cat Schmoo. My amputee cat Trooper.

I have heard people say animals are dumb. Of course, I am gracious and say my response quietly in my mind. I offer a generic response of “OK.”

Then like a secret world, the not dumb world of pets begins!

My not dumb animals are all strays thrown out during Covid or into the wild in general. One scaled the roof for 3 days peeping down as to say, “I am ready to be saved now.” Trooper got her name because I was feeding her as a stray and she vanished for a week. Upon her return I discovered her gunshot would that left her, dangling. Yikes!

Paws on my shoulder when I shed a tear or laughter abounds. Literal survivors. I have seen them watch PBS Masterpiece with curiosity. They fall asleep to sound baths every week as If I planned a spa day just for them. Emotionally in touch. Trust builders.

Fuzzy nuggets!

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Prompt: You’re going to have dinner with two people who have passed — famous or not. Who do you choose? Why? Write about your meal and conversation.

Dinner would be set in an old village vintage with stone and wood beams. There is snow outside and heavy coats are strewn about on the back of the chairs. Boots sloshing as skiers pass. In a corner there is a table set for three.

Who is sitting there? Eleanor Roosevelt and my grandmother. Our conversations are around generational trauma.

What stories are important to tell?

How do you comfort a breaking nation?

How do you protect yourself from what you feel is coming but you can’t see?

How do we nurture nature as we watch it become devalued and exchanged?

What should we pray for?

Do you feel you worked hard to make change?

When do we become elder?

What questions are the right questions?

What do you see happening now, that you can guide us to overcome in the days to ahead?

Do you see hope in us?

What song would you sing to me?

What poem would you praise?

Why hot dogs?

What prayers would you lift?

How do we heal?

Did you have doubt?

Did they call you strong?

It is the quietest of conversations. Not much is said. Instead, we held hands and sat in a small circle and acknowledged the answers were never the point. Holding onto each other and reaching out our hands made it safe enough to ask and the strength to hang on.

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Prompt: Write about this idea: “The moral arc of history is long, but bends toward justice.”

For whatever reason, the world’s longest diving board came to mind. Hand built by all of the those who came before us. Why a diving board? It has the ability to bend while supporting much weight.

So here we all are approaching this long board. Each one of us headed in the same direction. Ready to take a leap into the great blue waters below. The more people that climb on – the greater the arc.

The buoyancy being tried every time we move together. Let’s bounce to gain courage and test the strength beneath our feet. Courage will be needed to take the plunge.

Each new person has hope in their hearts as they shuffle on. We redistribute the weight to keep the people on the end of this arching board from bending near the waters too soon. What happens then? We get ready to dive in.

I will see you in the water, folks!

We all jump in.

If you don’t know how to swim, ask your fellow board walkers for a life vest and don’t be afraid to jump in.

No one is in these waters alone. Millions dove in before us and are wading for us.

No one is in these waters alone so let’s not let anyone go under.

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Prompt: For an entire month, you can travel anywhere in the world with all expenses paid. Where do you go?

My Pilgrimage: The Camino Trail

Even with an all-expense paid trip to do anything anywhere, the trip in my heart is more reliant upon the love, wisdom and faith of others. Yes, I would accept the airfare and need little with me otherwise.

To walk and Talk with God in a land meant to wander, sweat, laugh, cry and explore. The questions in my heart as it feels like I put God on hold like it was the 90’s and I was taking a three-way call. A call I could come back to while I answered call after call. Prioritized this person at that time. I fell hard. I mean hard.

I have taken God off hold and have begun the most important pilgrimage which is within my own heart.

In this new land I will walk in the steps others have walked-humble myself in a quiet moment, put one foot in front of the other. Get lost and sing joyfully off key!

An intentional journey to become more intentional.

Smell the grass, run barefoot and do the strenuous work of beginning and ending.

Being open-hearted, exhausted, pleasant meals with strangers, prayers alone, communing, relating, understanding.

Getting my clothes dirty with not a single idea of how I am going to wash them!

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Peace be with you. And also with you. Words that follow with fellowship, love and devotion.

Then in my car on the drive home I must turn the radio off. The messages do not align with the peace I am trying to keep in my heart.

I go to the TV and scroll for an Autumn scene of fall foliage. Old red trucks and covered bridges covered in fallen leaves. I accidentally saw the news—oh no! That doesn’t seem like the pace I am seeking. I turn the TV off.

I will try real nature—my first love, my forever escape, my glorious peace. Then, I hear someone having target practice right outside the fence—I flinch—that does not give me peace. It gives me a stomachache and worry.

Back inside, I have a perfectly placed rocking chair facing a window—just as I intended. It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.

Oh look, I staged my own peace! Oh yes, this will do! A pair of huge dorky headphones that will allow me to shut out the world and turn on classical music. I remember to breathe and realize peace is in my own efforts. It began with all the efforts and preparations that others and I have made.

For a quiet moment, alone to be restored enough to remember; to remember.

Even in this small moment may I never forget how much resilience it took to have it.

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Prompt: What’s in your backpack?

Today, in my backpack, I lightened my weight.

It took a week to pack, unpack and prioritize. What used to be a figurative burden full is now just a simple pack. What can I truly carry with me? Discovering weight that is proportionate to my physicality.

What used to be in this backpack?

Everything that ever was—a 300 pound back sack. Full of worry, doubt, fear, experiences, mistakes, failures and accomplishments. All shoved into this unbearably heavy back-breaker of a bag.

Then it occurred to me to put it down. You don’t need to carry it with you everywhere you go as people watch me plop it down in each room you enter. Thud, “Hi, I’m Noel.”

Today, what is in my backpack?

A few essentials and I walk with less of a lean. What’s in my backpack today? Not as much. I am learning to pack and unpack it daily. All I know is today it is a bit easier to carry.

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Prompt: Write about the library.

Today I came in with my nerd tote and attached to it is my “I love the library” pin.

I packed backup pens to my backup pens and felt joy sitting down at this writing table. My first love of the library came from me wanting a copy of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein.

My mom could not afford a copy. Instead, she packed three kids into a red wagon and off we went in the hot summer heat. Five miles each way with one determined mom.

The library was our happy place.

Through the years, I visited many libraries. Ones with creaky old floors that looked like Hobbit houses.

Tiny ones, no more than a room in the smallest of towns. And I was fortunate enough to see the renovations done at Denver Public Library.

They were a safe space for those who needed warmth, access to knowledge and a place to get lost in your own mind while reading from the mind of others. The kindness of the staff seemed universal and if you came across a grumpy one it felt endearing.

The library got me through, from childhood to college. The place where endless tutoring, mentoring and gathering helped a little girl who was told she would never read.

In this place I became a little more nerdy and open to exploring endless opportunities within reach.

For every door it opens to people who may have been told all the other doors were closed: thank you, libraries.

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→ Donate here. Speak Up is a 501(c)3 Public Charity. Gifts are tax-deductible.

Prompt: Write about the penny.

The penny is going away. Does that mean it will cost a dollar for our thoughts now?

It reminds me of the Griswold Christmas when the grandma tells Rusty she will give him a quarter if he behaves. He rolls his eyes in response because even then the quarter had become of questionable value.

Goodbye penny candy—although you have been nearly obsolete for some time. Those are the sweet tales that make our elders smile and sit back in their chairs remembering a simpler time. When a pocket of change could possibly change your outcome.

So goodbye, penny, thank you for adding up over the years in my Strawberry Shortcake piggy bank. You helped put food on the table and bought my first Rubix’s Cube. You gave us all a game of joy to pick you up wherever we found you and knew it was a day of good luck.

Goodbye penny, if you want my two cents, I will miss your shiny worth!

❤️ Support Speak Up. Sustain and plant life-changing writing communities that give a voice and bring people together across cultural, social, and economic divides.

→ Donate here. Speak Up is a 501(c)3 Public Charity. Gifts are tax-deductible.