It's About More Than Just Me

It's easy to forget that every person on the planet is one walking, pulsating, vivid life story in progress. I don't know how I got there, but when I found this video on DeeDee's blog, Pinch Me to See if I'm Dreaming, I was moved to tears. I can't think of a better way to write this "story," so I offer the video in the hope it will also touch you in some way.



Write now: about times you've been impatient, or times you've worn "the glasses." Write about your thoughts after watching this video.

Held Prisoner By Life

HELP!

I’m being held prisoner by life! Over the last few days I’ve started three different blogs, and life events intervened every time. The new windows we’ve waited over two months for arrived, I had unexpected meetings, and blah, blah, blah. I sound just like people in my writing groups and classes. “I had company. I was sick. I had seventeen deadlines, and ...” Yes. There are times in all our lives when writing does not get done. Maybe it doesn’t even get started.

So, today I can beat myself up over not having a blog posted in some timely fashion. I can ignore the whole thing, Or I can write something, anything at all, and put it up there. I don’t ordinarily choose the latter, because posting “anything at all” violates my personal standards of offering my best and my commitment to write about writing, not my life. But today I’m posting something off-the-cuff, specifically to remind all of us that writing something, anything at all, is better than writing nothing at all.

Two of the blogs I have begun and not finished are a good start, and before long I will have them done. One hangs around finishing and posting a book review I want to reference. The other hangs around finding some resource links I want to cite. Both files are saved and ready to finish up in a day or two.

You can do the same with stories. Write a few lines, by hand or keyboard. File it away. I keep a special folder on my computer for unfinished projects, and a slot in my desk-stacker unit for unfinished paper projects. This works well for me, because I know where things are when I’m ready to start again, and I can check the folder to see what’s still hanging. (Yes, there are some very old things there... Sticking something in that folder does not guarantee it will be finished.)

If you get swamped by life events, go with the flow. Be fully present with your business, and promise yourself a clear time to get back to your writing. Make a firm date with your pen or keyboard and be faithful about keeping your word to yourself. If it feels a little awkward getting that hand moving again, write something gentle, like a to-do list or a thank you note. Consult your story idea list. Make a story idea list. You’ll soon find your words gushing forth again.

As I also will. The next month is predictably hectic, and I may be slow in posting. But I’ll be plugging away, and hope you will also.

Write now: about future events that will keep you from writing for a few days or longer and how you plan to work around that without completely losing your place and your pace.

Your Place in History

Where were you when you heard the news of JFK’s assassination? How about the day Neil Armstrong took one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind? Do you remember the advent of credit cards? These events shaped our national awareness, but history books are full of lesser occurrences that also shaped the flow of history, most of which will pass unremembered.

You may not have thought of your life story as part of history — few people do. But just as the ocean is an accumulation of drops of rain, so history is the accumulation of the lives of individuals. We each have a part, if only as a participant in daily life and a recorder of developments. When you include larger historical elements in your personal story, you link your life with the overall flow of others in your time and space.

Kim Pearson, author and owner of Primary Sources, has written a book that makes it easy to do this. In Making History: How to remember, record, interpret, and share the events in your life, she includes lengthy lists of historical events and developments spanning the decades from the 1930s to the 1980s, arranged in eight chapters covering various aspects of society and culture. The text in each chapter gives an overview of the flow of history during these decades, and she includes a lengthy list of writing prompts at the end that should send you flying for paper or keyboard. You can learn more about the book by reading my review.

In the introduction she reminds us that history is always told and written from the perspective of individuals, whether it’s recorded in history books, encyclopedias, or other accounts. Anyone familiar with the women’s movement knows feminists claim that we read history, not herstory. When you write about your life, you are writing yourstory. Including larger elements turns it into ourstory.

You may have seen the viral e-mail going around claiming that in deference to the growing Muslim population there, Britain is revising history by requiring the Holocaust not be mentioned in history text books. That e-mail is utterly false (check it on Snopes.com), but something similar could happen. If it does, eye-witness accounts of those involved could be invaluable in setting the record straight at some future point.

Events don’t have to be that dramatic to matter. You will do your descendants a favor by writing of the flavor of your times on a larger scale, whether that’s a local decision of the School Board to increase class size, the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, or a declaration of war. Devote a few stories to telling them what was going on in the world around you in various years. Let them know what you thought about events and how they influenced and affected you for better or worse. That will give them a more rounded view of you, and as a bonus, it will teach them a few fragments of history in a way that will throb with relevance and energy.

Write now: about your experience of a historic event like JFK’s death, the war in Viet Nam, or some lesser historical event. Tell what you were doing when you heard about it, what you thought when you heard it, how it affected your life right then and later, and anything else that seems relevant.

Return to the World of Color

When the electricity goes out, color fades from my world. Part of the reason is visual. The retinal cells involved in seeing color require far more light to activate than the peripheral ones that see in dim light, but don’t sense color. When the light is dim, so is color perception.

But it’s more than just the change in vision. My world seems smaller and more limited when my routine is upset. Most clocks are blank. I can’t cook on my stove. I have to keep the refrigerator closed so food will stay cool as long as possible. I reflexively reach for dead light switches. Only two phones of the many in the house function. My computer doesn’t work. I feel as if I move through the day wearing lead boots and bracelets.

These limitations are fresh in my mind, because Hurricane Ike aimed his last blast of destruction at the greater Pittsburgh area, toppling trees and power lines like toys kicked around during a child’s tantrum. Hurricane force winds were recorded a few miles north of here, but our neighborhood was spared the worst of it. We only lost power. It went out at 9:30 pm on Sunday night and didn’t come back on until late Tuesday afternoon.

We decided to consider it an adventure. After all, it could have been ever so much worse. The temperatures are mild now, neither hot nor cold. Our house and property are intact. We still had water, and our battered old Coleman stove from the camping era works. We have lots of candles on hand. Yes, we felt a little guilty complaining at all, considering the devastation down in Texas.

The days are not so difficult. Aside from the fact that everything seems to take twice as long without the normal stove and other appliances, it’s light enough to read, sort things, and get to some of the backlog of non-computer tasks that are so easy to put off. Evenings are more challenging, but provide a great opportunity for playing old-fashioned games like cribbage, rummy or backgammon. Reading by the light of half a dozen candles has a special feel, and writing in my journal under the candles was a delightful treat. Candles in the bathroom create flattering light in the mirror.

A little time in these conditions is enjoyable in an odd way. However, when I heard the refrigerator whir to life in mid-afternoon on Tuesday, I reached for a switch. Light and color more vivid than I recalled flooded the room. It seemed as if a switch had turned a movie from black-and-white to Technicolor from one frame to the next. What delightful magic! How quickly life returns to normal.

Write now: about a large or small disaster you have weathered. Did you ever evacuate because of an impending hurricane? Did you stick it out during one? Has a tornado passed near you? Floods, landslides? A killer blizzard? Maybe your worst disaster is a simple power outage like ours this week or a broken water pipe. Tell what you did to get along without electricity and whatever other services were lacking. Describe any destruction to your property. How did you feel about it? How did you cope? What preparations have you made for future disasters?

Stick Up For Your Truth

Shortly after the last post about Truth, a reader, we’ll call her Jackie, sent me an e-mail about a memory. The way she remembers things, she paid for half the cost of her first bicycle, a blue Schwinn. In a conversation with her mother some years ago, she mentioned this memory.

“I don’t know why you think that!” snapped her mom. “Your father and I bought you that bicycle for your birthday, and you certainly didn’t help pay for it! What on earth gave you that idea?” For the sake of peace, and because Jackie suddenly doubted her own memory, she deferred to her mother’s version — as usual.

“I still remember it the original way. I don’t know why I let her talk me out of believing in my own memory,” she wrote.

This story has several implications. First, Jackie’s original memory persists in spite of the challenge. That’s a sign it’s probably valid. In any case, it’s her memory, and it’s important to honor your memories, and not allow anyone to talk you out of them against your sense of truth. She doesn’t have to mind-wrestle her mother to reclaim her memory. All she has to do is give herself permission to believe in her own truth.

Assuming Jackie is correct, and that she did pay for part of the bike, how could her mother’s account be so different?

The answer may lie in a phenomenon psychologists call cognitive dissonance. According to Changing Minds.org, cognitive dissonance is “the feeling of uncomfortable tension which comes from holding two conflicting thoughts in the mind at the same time.” The need to resolve this tension often affects the way memories are formed or stored, and the way they are eventually recalled.

Let’s assume Jackie’s mom had a deep-seated need to be recognized as a “Good Mother.” The memory of that bicycle gift may have lain dormant for years — such gifts are usually more poignant to the child than the parent. When Jackie reminded her of it, cognitive dissonance may have shaped the emerging memory on the fly to support her Good Mother self-image. (Do Good Mothers make their kids chip in on their own birthday gifts?)

Why would she insist Jackie was wrong and had to change her own memory instead of just letting it go? This would be a good question for Jackie to pose to herself in her journal, listening closely to what her "inner voice" tells her. If Jackie scans her memory for other evidence of Mom’s attempts at mind control, she may gain deeper insight into her mother’s way of dealing with life and people, their relationship, and her own way of dealing with conflict.

Rather than further armchair analysis and speculation, I’ll leave you with a suggestion that you put on your detective hat and look for possible sources of discrepant memories. I cover other possible causes in my essay, Mayhem at Camp RYLA that may help you uncover clues. You may discover that your memory has evolved over time, or you may find fascinating insights into other people’s minds. Whatever the outcome, let your curiosity drive you to greater insight and understanding rather than anger.

And then write your story, your way. Gently and respectfully suggest that she write her own version.

Write now: about a memory that has evolved over time. How and why did it change? Or write about conflict with a parent and how you responded.

A New Alphabet

I just discovered that SARK has a new blog, or as she calls it, her online journal. In a post last month I wrote about her new book, Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper. She’s just full of new things.

Like her books and e-letters, SARK’s journal brings scented pens to mind. Sometimes I lean toward my monitor and sniff to be sure, disappointed that I can’t actually verify the scent of a succulent strawberry, grape, blueberry, orange, and raspberry salad with a tangy lemon-mint dressing. My disappointment at the lack was forgotten when I played the audio file she posted. I won't repeat her whole story. The part that inspired me was her intention to start a new tradition of using only positive, affirmative words to clarify oral spelling. For example, A is for Awesome rather than Apple.

Just like that Sarabelle tossed me an idea: using this Affirmation Alphabet to spell names. This may not be a piece of writing you’ll want to share with the world at large. You may feel embarrassed to publicly display a poster such as this one.

But, why not make yourself one for your own private viewing? Or heck, make one, show it, and tell people a friend did it for you if you blush. If you need to warm up, use someone else’s name to start.

This exercise has at least three benefits. First, it’s a terrific self-affirmation. Write it and believe it. Show some positive attitude! This may not be life story writing, but it is life writing. Think of it as writing about your future ideal self. The self you are becoming.

The other benefit is that I guarantee nearly everyone will be reaching for a dictionary and expanding your descriptive vocabulary. Not all the words on that poster came easily to my mind. Ravishing took some digging, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it. I made this poster for a sweet three-year-old. But I might be bold enough to use it for my own poster.

The third benefit is that you’ll have a lot of fun. I haven’t played around with my doodle pens for ages. It’s about time. It’s fun. I think I’ll find a new place to keep them that’s easier to reach.

SARK is such a good influence. I’m not going to start writing everything by hand with a different color for each sentence and flourishes and squiggles everywhere, That wouldn’t be me. That would be imitation SARK. But I can find my own way. I might do my poster in a graphics program. I can get wildly creative there, far more easily than on paper. Or ... I’ll let my imagination run wild.

Thanks SARK!

Write now: your own name poster. And you don’t need to limit your selections to one word per letter. Live it up. Use five. Just make sure they are affirmative. Make a poster for a friend, or a grandchild. Make lots of posters and give them away to their namesakes. You can do for them what they may never dare do for themselves. You may find that you’ve developed a whole alphabet of affirmative words and you can help change the world as SARK is hoping.

What Is the Truth of a Tree?

What is the truth of a tree? What’s to wonder about? A tree is a tree. Maybe the truth is that it is an oak tree. Or a pine tree. Or is the truth of a tree that it is in a forest in Colorado, or by a creek in Texas? Is the tree’s truth its age?

Maybe the truth of a tree is the birds that nest in its branches, or the fading of its leaves in autumn. Could it be the sap that runs in its veins, or the growth ring it acquires each year, expanding its girth? Maybe the truth of the tree is the fruit or seeds it produces, or the playground it provides for squirrels. Or the shade it sheds to shelter sensitive plants.

Perhaps the tree’s truth lies in the lumber it produces for building shelters, or the logs it yields for warming fuel. Its truth may emerge in newsprint, carrying other truth to your eyes.

These suggestions are all made from the eyes of an observer. What would the tree claim as its own truth? “I sprouted from an acorn 86 springs ago. I have survived droughts, floods, and kids nailing cleats to my trunk. I survived three onslaughts of gypsy moths, hordes of woodpeckers, boring beetles, and all sorts of other irritations. I have an ongoing relationship with the cute little maple growing next to me, and appreciate all the delicious thanks offerings the birds leave at my feet while perching on my branches.”

So, what is the truth of a tree? All this and more!

If discovering the truth of a tree is this challenging, how much more so the truth of your life.

As I wrote my Morning Pages recently, I had a vision of Truth as a lens, not an entity, which is the way I’ve been inclined to view it. Like, “What is the real truth of this situation?” The ultimate, core Truth?

Take the example of a child hitting a sibling. Mother asks, “Why did you hit her?” “She kicked my blocks over.” That sounds pretty fundamental, and with small children things tend to be so. But that truth is only part of the overall picture. Why did the sibling kick the blocks over? Why did the child choose the option of hitting rather than tattling? Were one or both of the children tired?

Truth is not a simple thing, and it is not a synonym for confession. To write truth, you need a point of view, and as you consider the situation, you’ll find layer upon layer, one angle after another. Part of your decision about which truth to write will depend on who you perceive your readers to be.

Now that I’ve built the case that there is no ultimate Truth, I’ll qualify that statement. A few years ago a friend’s husband lay dying. Many of her friends were baffled that she had prolonged his life in various ways for so long. Even she knew it made little sense. “What is keeping you from letting go,” I asked her one day.

“I love him, and I can’t imagine life without him.”

That, my friends, is Ultimate Truth, stripped down to the core. It doesn’t come from reason, logic, or explanation. There is truth, and there is Truth. Inescapable, unarguable Truth comes from the heart, and when you hear Truth, your heart tells you it is so. Whatever your point of view, whatever boundaries you put around disclosure, writing from the depths of your heart will convey Truth.

Write now: a list of seven statements that are Ultimate Truths in your life. Ultimate truth is that simple. It requires no more than a single statement.

Magic Spell to Brighten Dingy Gray Writing

Writing from an adult state of mind often results in dingy gray writing that has all the appeal of instruction manuals for installing dishwashers. The roots of gray writing go all the way back to childhood. Remember when you first started coloring in a color book? The day you made the sky bright orange and scribbled the grass purple and put pink leaves on the tree? And your mother looked aghast at your proud efforts. “You know the sky is blue. Why did you make the grass purple?” And you knew failure.  Even if you don’t remember, your Inner Critic was born that day, and life became a little less fun. So here you are now, wanting with every fiber of your being to amaze your family and friends with wondrous webs of enchanting words, and you sit staring at blank paper with your solar plexus squooshing your guts up into the back of your throat and you think of orange skies and you can no more write brightly blossoming words than fly to the moon.

TAKE HEART!
BE BRAVE!

Reclaim your right to chose your own colors. Release your Wild Child, listen to your heart, then color and write on your own terms. That’s the only way to amaze anyone with wondrous writing.

If you dare to try something zany, here’s a special magic spell Sarabelle taught me for keeping Gretchen out of my way. To cast the spell, you’ll need a medium-sized glass jar or drinking glass, your favorite pen or pencil and plenty of unlined paper (best for writing outside the lines, which this spell is all about). Place the jar next to your paper and pen.
Now, sit comfortably in your chair, ready to write, and rest your write hand on your paper. Place your other hand over your solar plexus (the soft triangle where your ribs begin to spread apart). Press gently and notice any sensation of tension or tenderness there. Close your eyes and take a deep, slow breath, filling your lungs comfortably full. Concentrate on the feeling of your breath entering your body. Exhale gently, relaxing and feeling peaceful as the breath departs. Feel your solar plexus relax. Repeat six times, feeling more calm and relaxed each time.

On the seventh breath, fill your lungs completely. Raise your write hand and place it below your mouth in a cupped position. Push on your solar plexus with your other hand as you exhale forcefully, “blowing” the Inner Critic out into the palm of your waiting hand. Quickly close your hand and grasp the critic firmly to keep it from slipping away. Use your other hand to raise the glass jar to one side, and slip the critic underneath, quickly snapping the jar down to capture it inside. You may or may not be able to see it. That doesn’t matter. Know it’s in there, and promise to call it when you need it, but be firm in telling it to sit there quietly. Slide the jar to the back of the desk.

You are now free to write all the
wondrous words you dream of.

To celebrate your freedom, pick up your pen and write a story about the most beautiful flower you’ve ever seen or can imagine. Write about seductive scents and ethereal lighting. Write about running around the yard blowing soap bubbles. Write about your favorite toys. Write about swinging clear up to the sky and digging to China in the sand. Write with joy and abandon and don’t worry at all what it sounds like.

Inner Critics often need lots of training before they'll stay put in their jar, but you can repeat this magic anytime yours gets loose and turns your writing dingy gray again.

Write now: about other joyous memories. Write about scary things as if you are a child telling your Grandma. Write a story about your IC. When did it appear? How does it influence you? What would you write if it were to disappear? Let your words whirl, soar and spin with joy and glee. Write like nobody is reading, and ... HAVE FUN playing with words!