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This letter by Kurt Vonnegut will make your soul grow.
Today, I sat at my desk, pen in hand, ready to write a manifesto for THE WORK. As I started writing, I realized I didn’t know what a manifesto was or how to write one. So, I opened up Chrome and googled, “What is a manifesto?”
Today, I sat at my desk, pen in hand, ready to write a manifesto for THE WORK.
As I started writing, I realized I didn’t know what a manifesto was or how to write one. So, I opened up Chrome and googled, “What is a manifesto?”
In a rebellious act against my high school teachers, I ignored the Oxford and Merriam-Webster definitions and clicked on the Wikipedia link.
The first line read:
“A manifesto is a written declaration of the intentions, motives, or views of the issuer, be it an individual, group, political party, or government.”
Perfect. I thought. My gut was right. That is exactly what I need.
Don’t worry. I’m not running for political office, and although my rebellious tendencies show up in my research methodology, I have no plans of overthrowing our government.
At least not yet.
However, The Work has grown quite a bit in the last few months, and all strong and healthy communities need a set of unifying values—an identity.
Plus, manifestos are just fucking cool.
On my way back to my notebook from my scholarly endeavors on Wikipedia, my phone went off.
A new Instagram DM.
Sadly, it was a spam account trying to recruit me to promote shitty jewelry.
On my way out, a couple of reels, I thought to myself.
I lied.
Thirty minutes later, I landed on a clip of Sir Ian McKellen reading a marvelous letter penned by Kurt Vonnegut to some high school students.
*This is Vonnegut Typing*
Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:
I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don’t make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana.
What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.
Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you’re Count Dracula.
Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?
Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.
God bless you all!
Kurt Vonnegut
After being captivated by McKellen’s performance, I knew I had found what I had been looking for.
The second paragraph of the letter sums up my intentions, motives, and views: To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.