Heather Tosteson
HEATHER TOSTESON, a writer and visual artist, has received a Nation/Discovery prize for her poetry and fellowships for poetry, fiction, and photography from MacDowell, Yaddo, VCCA and Hambidge Center. She holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing (UNC-Greensboro), a Ph.D. in English and Creative Writing (Ohio University), and a Diploma in the Art of Spiritual Direction (San Francisco Theological Seminary). She has worked as a science writer and editor, executive editor of two public health journals at Harvard Medical School, and in health communications at the Centers for Disease Control, with a focus on communication across professional disciplines, racism, narrative and social trust, and how belief systems develop and change. She is the author of seven books, including the short story collection, Germs of Truth, and the non-fiction, God Speaks My Language, Can You?, which focuses on how we can listen with imagination to the faith journeys of our neighbors whatever their faith tradition. She has also co-edited eleven Wising Up Anthologies, including Siblings: Our First Macrocosm, Daring to Repair, Complex Allegiances: Constellations of Immigration, Citizenship & Belonging, View from the Bed: View from the Bedside, The Kindness of Strangers, and Re-Creating Our Common Chord. She is the founder, with Charles Brockett, of Universal Table/ Wising Up Press. She and Charles Brockett are also the co-authors of Sharing the Burden of Repair: Reentry After Mass Incarceration, an extensive listening project on reentry in Georgia.
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But we do have the beginning of the answer if we can slow down, step back, listen. That beginning is US, just as much as the polarization is. Its essence is a presumption of good faith. And a never-ending practice of discovering, rediscovering and creating our common good—a practice that depends heavily on our ability to see the good in each other, however different we are. Really see it, lift it up, and do the same with our own. We’re not saying this practice is easy, especially now. We are saying it’s crucial—and rewarding. It is also small, specific, one person, one relationship, at a time.
personally—and which we would like to explore with others because they
are common challenges, essential for healthy, resilient relationships . . . and
difficult to stay with comfortably. Repair is one of them for me—perhaps
because it requires such patient good faith, accountability tempered by self-acceptance,
and a firm sense of proportion and time, none of which, even
at sixty-one, are my most reliable virtues (although they are my husband's).
Repair also requires attunement, a taste for the subjective worlds of others, an
ardent desire for things to turn out 'right,' a flexible and inventive freedom
to re-imagine that 'right' in a way that makes room for changing insights,
realities, and stories, and tenacity that verges on the quixotic, all of which, for
better and worse, are intrinsic to me.
Why is it that we often feel more empowered, more intimately related within the artifice of a story, a song, a painting than we do in the world at large? What do we learn when we try to take that expansiveness back out into world?
What, if anything, do experiences of creativity and constraint have to do with real world challenges, where our desires and drives are checked daily, where our playing fields are far from level, where hard work isn't always rewarded?
But what exactly does it mean to be shaped by class? How does this shaping affect what we long for, strive for, believe is possible—not just for us but for those around us and the world at large? What happens to our understanding of class, of our society and of ourselves, when we cross class boundaries upwards or downwards, willingly or unwillingly, through education, employment, marriage, divorce, friendships and other meaningful relationships, immigration or emigration, illness, economic or political upheaval? How does our experience of class mobility, wanted or unwanted, change our understanding of ourselves, our social relationships, our sense of social agency, our sense of our society? How does it change our understanding of the possibilities and challenges of living out E Pluribus Unum?
A Wising Up Anthology
With the intense polarization in our society these days, the volume and vitriol so high on all sides, how do we live out our commitment to the existentially equal value of those around us when we ourselves feel deeply devalued, feel our definition of the common good is unheard or denied? What do we do with our strong responses to the threat that devaluation poses—a threat our bodies and our hearts recognize even faster than our minds? Under threat we all become more authoritarian, impulsive, suspicious, unkind—and frightened, discouraged, and unforgiving. It's so quick, like a switch. An alternate reality. None of us are exempt.
But we do have the beginning of the answer if we can slow down, step back, listen. That beginning is US, just as much as the polarization is. Its essence is a presumption of good faith. And a never-ending practice of discovering, rediscovering and creating our common good—a practice that depends heavily on our ability to see the good in each other, however different we are. Really see it, lift it up, and do the same with our own. We’re not saying this practice is easy, especially now. We are saying it’s crucial—and rewarding. It is also small, specific, one person, one relationship, at a time.
Thirty-seven contemporary writers share here, through memoir, fiction, poetry, and essay, their own experiences with discovering, creating, or re-creating our common chord across nationality, class, criminal justice, religion, race, politics, family, community. Come join us . . .
Where have you seen goodness in play? How has it changed your own life, the actual choices you make or how you evaluate your choices? Is there a cascade effect? Or is it, in its specificity, always a one-off? What happens to us when we think about it, try to describe it, share our experiences of it with others?
We hope you will find personal inspiration and resonance in this thoughtful and moving collection that discovers goodness in such difficult social realities as homelessness, imprisonment, and more intimate ones like illness, families, marriage, aging. We also hope these meditations on the often unexpected good in us and those around us can help us develop larger, much needed social conversations about our common good.
significantly by four steps: 1) Reconceptualizing public health as fundamentally a political,
rather than professional, activity; 2) Reconceptualizing trust as a relational dynamic where the
criteria for trustworthiness are socially constructed and negotiated by both parties; 3) Using
narrative thought, rather than professional or ‘paradigmatic’ thought, as a method for eliciting
and responding to the trustworthiness criteria of the public; and 4) Improving our ability to hear
and respond to the social visions of marginalized groups from a position of equal, rather than
hierarchical, interpretive power as those expectations and visions are expressed in their distrust
narratives. All four of these steps pose significant challenges for public health professionals, both
in terms of professional self-identity and credibility and in terms of preferred modes of thought.
But we do have the beginning of the answer if we can slow down, step back, listen. That beginning is US, just as much as the polarization is. Its essence is a presumption of good faith. And a never-ending practice of discovering, rediscovering and creating our common good—a practice that depends heavily on our ability to see the good in each other, however different we are. Really see it, lift it up, and do the same with our own. We’re not saying this practice is easy, especially now. We are saying it’s crucial—and rewarding. It is also small, specific, one person, one relationship, at a time.
personally—and which we would like to explore with others because they
are common challenges, essential for healthy, resilient relationships . . . and
difficult to stay with comfortably. Repair is one of them for me—perhaps
because it requires such patient good faith, accountability tempered by self-acceptance,
and a firm sense of proportion and time, none of which, even
at sixty-one, are my most reliable virtues (although they are my husband's).
Repair also requires attunement, a taste for the subjective worlds of others, an
ardent desire for things to turn out 'right,' a flexible and inventive freedom
to re-imagine that 'right' in a way that makes room for changing insights,
realities, and stories, and tenacity that verges on the quixotic, all of which, for
better and worse, are intrinsic to me.
Why is it that we often feel more empowered, more intimately related within the artifice of a story, a song, a painting than we do in the world at large? What do we learn when we try to take that expansiveness back out into world?
What, if anything, do experiences of creativity and constraint have to do with real world challenges, where our desires and drives are checked daily, where our playing fields are far from level, where hard work isn't always rewarded?
But what exactly does it mean to be shaped by class? How does this shaping affect what we long for, strive for, believe is possible—not just for us but for those around us and the world at large? What happens to our understanding of class, of our society and of ourselves, when we cross class boundaries upwards or downwards, willingly or unwillingly, through education, employment, marriage, divorce, friendships and other meaningful relationships, immigration or emigration, illness, economic or political upheaval? How does our experience of class mobility, wanted or unwanted, change our understanding of ourselves, our social relationships, our sense of social agency, our sense of our society? How does it change our understanding of the possibilities and challenges of living out E Pluribus Unum?
A Wising Up Anthology
With the intense polarization in our society these days, the volume and vitriol so high on all sides, how do we live out our commitment to the existentially equal value of those around us when we ourselves feel deeply devalued, feel our definition of the common good is unheard or denied? What do we do with our strong responses to the threat that devaluation poses—a threat our bodies and our hearts recognize even faster than our minds? Under threat we all become more authoritarian, impulsive, suspicious, unkind—and frightened, discouraged, and unforgiving. It's so quick, like a switch. An alternate reality. None of us are exempt.
But we do have the beginning of the answer if we can slow down, step back, listen. That beginning is US, just as much as the polarization is. Its essence is a presumption of good faith. And a never-ending practice of discovering, rediscovering and creating our common good—a practice that depends heavily on our ability to see the good in each other, however different we are. Really see it, lift it up, and do the same with our own. We’re not saying this practice is easy, especially now. We are saying it’s crucial—and rewarding. It is also small, specific, one person, one relationship, at a time.
Thirty-seven contemporary writers share here, through memoir, fiction, poetry, and essay, their own experiences with discovering, creating, or re-creating our common chord across nationality, class, criminal justice, religion, race, politics, family, community. Come join us . . .
Where have you seen goodness in play? How has it changed your own life, the actual choices you make or how you evaluate your choices? Is there a cascade effect? Or is it, in its specificity, always a one-off? What happens to us when we think about it, try to describe it, share our experiences of it with others?
We hope you will find personal inspiration and resonance in this thoughtful and moving collection that discovers goodness in such difficult social realities as homelessness, imprisonment, and more intimate ones like illness, families, marriage, aging. We also hope these meditations on the often unexpected good in us and those around us can help us develop larger, much needed social conversations about our common good.
significantly by four steps: 1) Reconceptualizing public health as fundamentally a political,
rather than professional, activity; 2) Reconceptualizing trust as a relational dynamic where the
criteria for trustworthiness are socially constructed and negotiated by both parties; 3) Using
narrative thought, rather than professional or ‘paradigmatic’ thought, as a method for eliciting
and responding to the trustworthiness criteria of the public; and 4) Improving our ability to hear
and respond to the social visions of marginalized groups from a position of equal, rather than
hierarchical, interpretive power as those expectations and visions are expressed in their distrust
narratives. All four of these steps pose significant challenges for public health professionals, both
in terms of professional self-identity and credibility and in terms of preferred modes of thought.
communicate well across disciplines. Our panel of speakers will
talk about the difficulties of trying to bridge between the different
conceptual worlds of epidemiology, social theory and research,
government bureaucracy, and daily life-- exploring particularly
how communication difficulties, and successes, can have a direct
impact on how effectively we conduct all our activities, from
collaborating with other agencies, persuading major policy makers, and gaining or maintaining public trust to the actual design,conduct, interpretation, and acceptance of our research.
levels of health risk posed by toxic waste sites results in chronic social distrust. Most research has
focused on the psychosocial impact of these conflicts on communities. However, the challenges to
scientists are of equal force. Social scientists suggest we develop bridges between conflicting world
views; however, the challenges these belief systems pose for each other are substantive. For
scientists, to consciously incorporate issues of values implies a relational parity between interpretive
frames, and thus directly challenges established systems of institutional control and professional
identity. For communities, who have already undergone a drastic shift in world view and social
identity, acknowledging relativity is also difficult. This paper explores some of the reasons why
scientists and communities may find it difficult to recognize themselves in the descriptions provided
by social scientists. It focuses particularly on the cognitive transparence of belief systems and the
dynamics of belief change as obstacles to insight and discusses the implications for communication
between all three groups.
Reentry After Mass Incarceration
A Wising Up Listening Project
Heather Tosteson and Charles D. Brockett
This book describes a six-year listening project on reentry that took place at the crest of an unusual wave of bipartisan criminal justice reform in Georgia, one of our most punishing states. Its primary intended audience is common citizens, like us, concerned about the reality of mass incarceration but unsure how to engage. Its aim is to expand, individual story by individual story, our understanding of the importance of successful reentry after an age of mass incarceration and help us take on those difficult questions: Where and how do we fit in? What can we change?
We listened to over 200 people: formerly incarcerated men and women, families, defense lawyers, activists, employers, chaplains, juvenile courts and justice officials, diversion courts, prosecutors, judges, community supervision officers, commissioners of corrections and community corrections, and legislators involved with criminal justice reform. We heard stories people within our adversarial criminal justice system rarely share directly with one another, each with a wisdom to it that we all need.
By bringing them together here, we hope that new stories—more complex, compassionate, inclusive ones—can come into being, stories that acknowledge the lasting harms of both mass incarceration and crime and our capacities for remorse and change as individuals and as a society.
Including accounts of novel discoveries made in Delft that bear upon the oft vexing mysteries of sexual generation, particularly as they apply to the fate and purpose of women
In the 1670s in a small town in Holland, in a world constantly racked by fevers, plagues, wars, and an amazing rate of scientific discovery due to the telescope and microscope, two shocking, mutually contradictory discoveries are made: eggs in the ovaries of women, and animalcules in men’s semen. For the learned men of the age, these eggs and animalcules quickly inspire new and competing theories about sexual generation, theories that reject the belief that life comes from putrefaction and insist instead that it comes preformed, life from life, from either an egg or an animalcule. But this is not the story of the learned gentlemen . . .
This is Maria van Leeuwenhoek’s story and she tells us directly how her father Antoni, an unlearned but inspired amateur, a burger of Delft, discovers these animalcules, what happens to the two of them because of this—how she, a daughter not a son, one with as much independence of mind as her father, must make her own sense of his findings and of the theories that flow from them because they directly concern her own fate and purpose. What experimental knowledge does she bring to these questions that men cannot? As a woman, a daughter of marriageable age, where do her loyalty, her love, and her integrity lie? Who will carry her theories forward?