Yesterday I watched a movie that you’ll never be able to see.
This is the final day of two weeks of a precious pre-summer interlude when our household of five is together at last. Isaac is home from his freshman year of college, briefly landing before heading out of state for a summer of work. Isabel leaves tomorrow to work as a camp counselor in Texas, gone for five weeks.
We knew these two weeks would fly by. So we went family backpacking, delighted in celebrating Mother’s Day together, shared moments and meals. It has been good.
One of my favorite threads was watching the three kids—a child, a teenager, and an adult—work together to imagine, write, shoot, and edit a 15 minute short film. Much honor to them that they seized this opportunity and leaned toward one another.
Last night they presented the movie in the living room to a tiny, exclusive audience. It will probably will never be published on the internet, only viewable via in-person screening with friends or family.
As we watched I was reminded of my early days of backpacking with my brother-in-law Troy. Several days after getting back from a weekend adventure we’d all gather in the Felten family (my in-laws) living room and would present our trip recap movie: lovingly stitched together using iMovie on a white 2006 Apple Macbook.
As we watched together, usually five or six of us total, Troy and I would narrate, pause for questions, add snippets of backstory, and laugh together.
We didn’t consider putting the videos on social media platforms because that wasn’t an option. At the time I didn’t know how fleeting this season would be: crafting creative work for that tiny audience.
If I could have put those videos online or on social media, I probably would have put them online or on social media. They would have gotten plenty of likes, dozens of comments, and reached a bigger audience.
And there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with that.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that!
One of the centerpieces of my work with Speak Up over the last fifteen years has been about amplifying voices to a bigger audience. In particular, voices and work from people facing homelessness. Nearly a hundred print magazines, hundreds of articles, tens of thousands of views. And I hope to keep sharing and amplifying that which must be amplified and shared.
But that restriction that I didn’t know was a restriction with those living room movie screenings was a real gift. There’s something sacred about being gathered in person while someone presents memories or pictures or videos and lets you into their experience in realtime.
I was also reminded of this several months ago as my wife Lana shared from her trip to Israel—first in the living room with family and then later to a few dozen people in a local church. It was real and moving and the heartbeat of it was all around us. Then she shared her sharing with everyone. First intimate, then medium, then all.
The movie last night was amazing. As with the earlier in-laws living room showings, my father-in-law Phil was also there for the first screening, which was perfect. I laughed so hard that I spilled hot coffee on myself. My heart swelled another size. I’m hoping for another showing today. I don’t want to watch it alone but again in the same space with others.
On that larger theme of sharing near versus sharing far, I’m trying to find the balance. Some things are meant to be shared. The modern distribution channels—like the platform that powers this newsletter—make putting stuff out there so easy. I’m grateful for it. But big isn’t necessarily better. Wide can also mean shallow and sometimes the higher calling is to focus in on the few and go deep together.
May we have the wisdom to know which and when and how!
Here is a poem I wrote about some poems I wrote.
Audience
i wrote you some poems
the best i’ve writtenonly you will ever see them
a collection of holy secrets:
just for us