Entering the Next Age

A few hours ago the Mayan calendar reset. We are officially in a new “age”, at least according to the Mayans.

Nobody I know was surprised to wake up this morning to find the world unchanged in any discernible way. I heard reports that some were stockpiling Doomsday kits of food and survival gear, just as they did for Y2K thirteen years ago, but this event has had far less hoopla in the media or public attention.

I’ve been contemplating its possible significance for at least four years, never expecting anything dramatic to happen, but watching trends and listening to thought leaders who point out that change has become dramatic and global since about the end of World War II. They also point out, for whatever it may be worth, that the Women’s Movement has occurred in waves of about forty years from the first Suffragette efforts, to the Consciousness Raising of the 60s and 70s to now.

These gurus opine that the trends they discuss have brought us to a tipping point where change must and will occur. They express no doubt that this change will be positive, escalating mankind to new levels of awareness and collaboration, but they don’t promise it will come about smoothly, without a certain degree of pain and suffering in the interim.

Their intriguing theories boil down to one thing: Stories are changing. Stories shape collective awareness, collective perceptions and judgments. On one level, our individual stories have become so fragmented that at least in the USA, even those who claim strong allegiance to ethnic, religious, professional or other groups tend to feel isolated within those groups.

On the other hand, collective stories about things like political correctness, individual rights, and such things abound. The challenge is that we have numerous collective stories at work that compete with each other. Which is right, my story or yours?

Anyone writing life stories and memoir is well aware of perceptual and conceptual differences on a small scale, for example within families. It’s only a matter of degree to see it on the level of an entire society, even globally.

How does collective Story change? Just as personal stories are an accumulation of memories and scenes that may change as we explore, question and examine them, scenes that may be linked together in an infinite variety of ways, collective Story is a compilation of individual stories. Thus collective Story evolves as personal ones do.

My part in bringing about the change I hope to see in global Story is to continue writing and revising my own story, seeking ever increasing transformation from fear, resentment and worry to one of loving acceptance, peace, and gratitude.

While this may seem a small, perhaps insignificant contribution, reports continue to pour from the media indicating that “writing peace” into our lives is a skyrocketing trend. I’m part of this trend, part of what Jerry Waxler calls “The Memoir Revolution.” Watch for his forthcoming book on this topic.

In prophesies about the turn of this age, the ancient Mayans never predicted Doomsday. They pointed to this pivotal point as a time of decision for mankind. Depending on our decisions, we may plunge into chaos and possible annihilation, or we may shift into that promised age of universal peace and prosperity.

That decision rests on the stories underlying decisions at every level. My story and yours can help spread healing and peace or perpetuate violence. My hope is that you will join me and keep working on your contribution as we transform to a new Story of love and peace, worldwide.

Write now: write a story about change in your life. For example, has your thinking changed over time about volatile topics like same sex marriage or gun control? How has your understanding of your own relationships changed? Be brave. Be brutally honest with yourself and burn your writing if you don’t want anyone to read it. And be open to new ways of looking at what you find.

Unimaginable Story

“A gunman went into an elementary school and killed 18 children and 9 adults!” My husband’s voice cracked as he told me this, and I looked up to see his face contorting.

It took a minute or two for the full implication of what he had told me to sink in. I immediately grabbed my laptop – I wanted to know the story, right that minute! It took only two clicks to find it. The more I read, the more stricken I felt.

“Students were told to close their eyes by police as they were led from the building.” I read. The story went on to say that children were led out in a line, with each child placing a hand on the shoulder of the one ahead.

I had to stop and catch my breath. How can we possibly fathom or make sense of such unimaginable horror? That someone could be so deranged, so tormented, that he could gun down children at their desks?

I want to know the story. All of it. Why did this person do this? How did he come to this state? What were the children thinking as this occurred, and how will their families handle the situation to keep it from scarring these kids for life? How will the community cope and heal?

Some of the back story, especially about the perpetrator, will fill the pages of papers and the web for some time to come. Much of the story I want to know is written on the pages of the future just now, but I hunger to know.

What more powerful example that Story is the operating system of the human brain? Story is the way we make sense of life and all that transpires. I’m writing my thoughts and reaction to this event in my journal, and writing this post about it as part of my attempt to come to grips with it. Will this click it into perspective right away? Probably not, but I feel better for trying, and my awareness of the ubiquity of Story is sharpened to a finer edge.

Right now this story stands on its own, but as time passes and I think about it more, I fully expect that it will link with other stories I remember, stories about school, about guns and violence, grief, tragedy and loss. Seeking more about this story helps me feel connection with that community and the people involved. Hopefully the story will ignite compassion in hearts all around the world, not just for the victims’ families, and those traumatized by today’s event’s, but also for the tormented soul who was driven to this abominable act. Story explains. Story sows seeds of healing.

Write now: pull out paper and pen – or use a keyboard – and do some freewriting about this incident and your thoughts about it. How does it affect you? How do you feel about it? What does it mean to you? How does it change your point of view about anything? Does it remind you of anything? If it does, write a story about that.

Image: “Maternal Grief”, sculpture by Carl Johan Eldh. Exhibit in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Dantes Plads 7, Copenhagen, Denmark

Metaphor for a New Year

Pictures make powerful story prompts, and this picture of a  crumbling sidewalk is no exception. It strikes me as a metaphor for our path thorough life and fits with the general theme of the new year and story.

Each New Year’s Day I’m reminded that life is a cyclical process. Each year exists within the “container” of twelve oscillating months that fit on a series of rectangular sheets roughly the shape of a sidewalk slab progressing through the year.

Though some may be similar, no two years are quite the same. Even on a newly poured sidewalk, you’ll find variations from one slab to the next, and by the time a sidewalk reaches the age and condition of this one, the differences among the sections are huge.

Each year in our lives has a story to tell. Although it’s anyone’s guess what it might be, it appears likely that each section of this sidewalk experienced some individually unique stresses, leading to its individual array of cracks, chunks and deformities.

This sidewalk is a visible record of the effects of a year – probably in reality a series of years. Our life writing, whether public or private is a visible record of the effects of years on our lives.

A freshly poured sidewalk traversing a lovely landscape is relatively uninteresting in its apparent uniformity and smoothness. It’s good for roller skating, pushing strollers, and playing hopscotch, but otherwise little more than a convenience for walking from place to place. A life with no challenges would be a dull life indeed.

This sidewalk is full of stories. It has repairs and subsidence and other areas that appear to be intact. Some spots are damp. How did this all happen? Is this the result of natural aging or damage? Has it experienced floods? Did a careless crane drop a wrecking ball? What might that have felt like, and how does the sidewalk see itself now? Various years evoke similar questions.

Looking toward the future, this sidewalk will need further repair to remain safe and useful. Lives sometimes need repair, and writing can be a powerful way to effect it.

Taken as a whole, this sidewalk is traveled by people on their way to a destination. Whatever the condition of the rest of the path, this section presents challenges to keep your balance and avoid stumbling. Some years are like that.

At this point my mind wanders to another task for today or tomorrow: updating my personal timeline – the rough equivalent of adding a new block to the sidewalk of my life. I see the similarity between my timeline and this sidewalk. Each year on my timeline is different. Some years were smooth, some were rough and challenging.

Like this sidewalk, the challenging years are the most intriguing, the most likely to provide insight, and the most likely to intrigue readers if I write about them.

I find a certain sort of dignified beauty in this sidewalk, and also in years of challenge.

Write now: Update your personal timeline. Start one if you don’t have one. Pick a year that was especially challenging and write about it. Describe each of the fragments, and how it came to be. What did it mean to you then, and what lessons have you learned? Use this sidewalk graphic as a prompt if it fits.

Photo credit: Bart Everson

Writing Your Traveling Life

Anna meets a wallaby in Sydney

Trips pose a challenge when writing life stories and memoir. If they took place decades ago, unless you kept a journal and/or lots of photos, you may have trouble remembering even such broad details as where you went. Ask me about that – I’m among your numbers. After many tens of thousands of miles on the road here and abroad, I realize that I go along for the ride and enjoy the scenery, but pay little active attention to where I am at any given moment. I have impressions, but few specific memories.

More than once I’ve left home with a blank journal, intent on capturing trip details. Maybe my mistake was capturing too many details. My good intentions always fell by the wayside within three or four days, but the notes I did write are terrific. Not even the pictures are much help, because we never got around to labeling them, and after twenty years, who knows which village was which?

Since the advent of digital cameras and laptop computers, this has gotten better. Now that I’m taking my own photos, I pay more attention to where I am when I take them. Photos are great memory joggers. But they aren’t quite enough. Words help. Labels are better than nothing, but a few notes are even better.

Now that wireless connections are available all over the world, often free, the situation has improved. While the day’s photos download from camera cards, I take a few minutes to write an email to people back home with details of the day’s events, highlights and observations. If I’m not online, I save the email and add to it each day until I do connect. Of course I keep a copy when sending. That lets everyone know, more or less in real time, what we are doing, and it serves as a trip journal for me.

Our daughter has taken this one step farther. She is in New Zealand this month and next with her family while her husband teaches at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch. Rather than trying to stay in touch by email or limiting contact to Facebook friends, she set up a blog and posts every couple of days, complete with several pictures. She’s not only sharing accounts of daily life down there, she’s serving as an ambassador for New Zealand with her humorous tales.

Everyone they know and hundreds more are following the adventures of the Mack family, and such adventures they are. The Chilean volcano ash cloud caused them to be rerouted through Sydney, Australia where they were delayed four days en route to New Zealand. After learning to drive on the other side of the road, they are learning their way around the massive earthquake detours in Christchurch. Their six-year-old daughter was attacked by an indigenous parrot in a wild-life park. Both girls are learning to ski (it’s winter down under). I’d love and follow that blog even if she weren’t my daughter, and you are all invited to follow it too.

There is one factor to consider before going this public with your travel reports. Security. She can do this safely because a house sitter is living in their home and feeding their great big dog. I don’t have this sort of protection, and my house is secluded in woods. I would not feel safe letting the whole world know I’m on the other side of it, so I’ll stick with emails to people I know and trust.

Write now: pull out pictures from a vacation and write about the trip. Tell it all, the good, the bad and the ugly. 

Watershed Memories

 Photo by Slagheap at www.flickr.com

This morning I jotted down some memories of September 11 in my journal. As I wrote, I thought of the intense fear the occasion called forth, the fear that life as we had known it had crumbled as surely as the Twin Towers. 

That triggered a related memory of a day a couple of years later when I experienced a blinding flash of the obvious, realizing in an instant that hate is not the opposite of love, FEAR is the opposite of love.  I felt those shackles of fear break free as divine, sublime love flowed into my being. My spirit soared in awe and gratitude. For several days I floated on a cloud of bliss, feeling free and strong, exploring the plethora of ramifications of this blessed “knowing.”

I wish I could tell you I've been 100% confident and joyful ever since. Not so. I still  get the willies now and then about one thing or another. It may be news related, like the situation in Iraq or healthcare reform, or it may be more personal, such as family illness. The onset of dread can come from any direction. But having been freed from chronic fear, I sense it early and am increasingly more able to nip it in the bud, reminding myself, “Things always work out okay in the end. Chill!”

Could I have understood this earlier in my life? I don't think so. I needed the data and experience to prepare me to understand and “get it.” But the delay in learning has made the realization that much more precious.

These memories, of the events and fear related to 9/11, and the experience of instant insight, are prime examples of watershed or landmark memories. They have had a major effect on my life, shaping it dramatically. Such memories form columns supporting the structure of memoir. I am compiling a list of these memories and arranging them on a timeline. They are transition points in my spiritual growth. Other memories about the impact of these insights and how they shaped my further life can be woven together to form walls and a roof linking all the columns together into a completed story.

That’s a long-term project. For now I’m writing short pieces about each watershed memory. That will anchor them and keep them fresh for when I’m ready to assemble the long version. And/or in case that day never comes.

Write now: list several watershed memories in your life. These may be about fear,  your spiritual development, or anything else you want to contemplate and come to grips with. Pick one or two and write a couple of paragraphs or a full story or essay. Or make a mindmap of related memories. File the material away for future use.

Google Advisory, aka Trouble in Cyberspace

For over twenty-four hours I've been unable to log in to view Ritergal's gmail. I am also unable to log onto this blog site on computers that weren't already connected when whatever it is happened. Right now my oldest computer, the one that's running Linux, is the only one connected to any Google services. If it happens to shut off, I'm out!

This morning, on my way to the monthly Pittsburgh Writers Project meeting, I was listening to speculation on the news that the North Koreans were causing havoc in Cyberspace. Maybe they hit Google. Who knows?

Anyway, if the blog goes blank for awhile, I'll be back as soon as Google is healed and lets me back in.

I think of this as yet one more sentence or paragraph in my ongoing story.

Write now: about a cyberspace adventure you've experienced.

You Can Go Home Again— Virtually

I got sucked into the parallel universe of Google this morning, which is way too easy to do. I’m working on The Los Alamos Years, a sequel to The Albuquerque Years, and wanted to check the elevation of Walnut Street relative to Villa Street on the other side of the mesa top our house stood on. Google Earth answered that, but then another question arose about where someone else’s house was, and that led me into GoogleMaps, and that led me to Street View, and I ended up virtually walking home from high school. The virtual walk went a little bit faster than the actual one would, but not much, by the time I swung around to look at things, and eventually made it “home.”

During the time I lived in Los Alamos, we always lived on Walnut Street, but we lived in two different houses. I have been back in person, but not since 2000, and I’d vowed not to go again, because it was too heart-breaking to see seared mountainsides where a lush ponderosa and aspen covered panorama towered above the town, before the devastating Cerro Grande fire in 2000. Today I had a chance to view those stark slopes in a fresh light. They are skinhead mountains now. They look like they survived chemo, but survive they have, and they exude strength. Their contours are clean and far more dramatic than they ever were when covered with flora. I can bear to look. I respect their strength and tenacity at the same time I grieve for the ignorance that devastated yet another portion of the planet.

Getting my virtual feet back in gear, I hit the corner of Walnut Street and 32nd and visually slammed into the second house we lived in. I already knew about the bizarre alterations that were made more than twenty years ago. Someone added a third level to the house, and did not tie it in well. They have now removed the doorway that opened into space, nearly twenty feet above the ground, but the chimney still tops out several feet below the roof, with a pipe stuck in the top to extend it. Oh, what a mess! I didn’t dawdle there.

Our first house, a long block down the street, still looks good, as you can see from this screen shot I grabbed. That huge tree on the left was not there, nor were the trees on the right end. The windows are new; originally all but the living room windows had panels on each end that opened with a crank gizmo. Otherwise, it looks the same. It is a duplex, and from my seventh birthday until I was twelve we lived in the right end. My sister and I sledded down that hill. We walked our bikes up and down that hill. I slid down the railing by those seventeen stairs.

That’s my bedroom window on the right center, second floor. Mine and my sister’s, until our brother arrived and we were moved to the back right corner. I liked that better. I could climb out the window on the end and hang out on the roof of the back porch. Not that there was anything to do there, but I liked being able to do it. Seeing that house brings back way more memories, and I need to get back to my writing.

Yes, it is satisfying to take a look and see how much some things have changed and how little others have. Why not take a virtual trip of your own? The price is right!

Write now: spend half and hour on GoogleEarth or GoogleMaps. Wander around an old neighborhood with StreetView if it’s available and check things out. Write about what you see, how it’s the same, how it’s different, and what you remember.

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?

Grand Reopening

Every now and then it’s time to redecorate. When I was younger, I often rearranged the furniture when this urge hit. Today our furniture is more complex and the rooms more limiting, so moving furniture isn’t an option. Not wanting the exertion, disruption or expense of painting walls, I turned to something more manageable: I redid my website.

When I set up The Heart and Craft of Life Writing site on sharonlippincott.com, I planned to fill it with downloads, articles on writing, book recommendations, and other useful information. I wanted it to be the premier site for free information and downloads. Alas, I’d fallen far short of that goal. This blog holds what would ordinarily be the articles I’d post there, but it's more than that. Basically, I find web design stressful and had left many aspects of the site “under construction”.

The urge to dig in and finish the site's structure came when I discovered that Ritergal’s Story Site, which had been hosted on free space on ThirdAge.com since 2001, went POOF! sometime over the last few weeks. Although I hadn’t posted anything new on that site for seven years, I liked the design. Fortunately, the files were all backed up, making it relatively easy to rebuild on my own turf.

After several days of riding alternate waves of tedium, adrenaline and elation as I worked on both the Heart and Craft and Story Site portions, I’m done. Let me assure you that for those of us who don’t work on websites very often, haven’t mastered the high end tools, and insist on custom design, this stuff is seriously tedious. Believe me, I’m celebrating now that it’s done!

Please click over to take a look at the new additions. You’ll find listings of programs and workshops, a link to the newly reinstalled Story Site, links to articles and stories I have published various places in cyberspace, and a page of downloads, many of which you may already have seen. I’ve also included a long list of recommended books. I have read each of the books on the list and recommend them to others. These are the cream of the crop. I have many books on my shelf that did not make the list. Clicking on any title will direct you to the book’s Amazon page where you can read reviews and other information. (Most of the titles will be in your local library, or available through interlibrary loan.)

This whole adventure is a good example of the value of backing things up. I would never have redone that site from scratch. It’s also an example of technology creep. After seven years there were some aspects of the coding in those pages that needed to be updated to comply with current standards. It still worked, but it’s likely to keep working longer with the touch-ups I did.

Your story files are the same way. Very old files, say ten years old or more, should be opened and resaved to keep them current. I have some old WordPerfect files from around 1990 that are clunky to open, even in WordPerfect (which I keep around for such purposes). I’ve been opening a few now and then and freshening them up if they are worth saving at all.

Maybe now that I have the site set up the way I intended, I’ll add material more often. Stay tuned.

One last thought: Although I finally bought a basic HTML book for ease of reference, I learned nearly everything I know about web design from online tutorials and searches. You can find free lessons for nearly anything on the web, including grammar and punctuation.

Write now: about how you handle the urge to change things. Have you redone your house? Bought new furniture? Moved? Redone a website? Bought a new wardrobe? How do you approach changes in technology?

Trial By Fire

Last week one of my students came to class with the horrifying news that the previous evening she had arrived home to find fire trucks in the parking lot, trying to control a fire in the apartment directly above hers. She came to class because, she said, “I need something to do to keep my mind off the horror! I had to be here!”

Fortunately the fire was contained before it destroyed her unit. A week later her apartment and belongings are being treated for smoke damage. She still has not been able to spend more than a few minutes at a time in the apartment and has been unable to determine whether her computer works or not. Fortunately the story she had written for class last week was stored on her work computer. We all have our fingers crossed that the contents of her home hard drive will be intact.

You never know when a fire will start. You never know when a thief will come. You never know when a hard drive will die.

Are your files backed up? Are your really important files backed up outside your home?

For several years I’ve lamented that basic safe deposit boxes were not wide enough to store backup CDs. That is no longer a concern. You could fit enough USB drives in a small box to store a few terrabytes of data. SD cards (like you use in cameras) are thumbnail size and can hold up to several gigabytes. They can store any kind of file, not just camera-generated photos. Stick them in a card reader, and they are like an old-fashioned floppy on mega-steroids. The price is dropping fast. You can buy an external compact hard drive with around 200 gigabytes of storage for under $100. These drives are the size of a stack of about 30 index cards. You could fit one in a small safe deposit box with plenty of room left for wills, financial records and a small coin collection.

But you don’t have to go to the bank unless the security of a bank vault matters to you. The systems administrator of our public library uses two external hard drives to back up the whole library system. She takes a drive with a fresh back-up image home with her each night and brings the alternate one in the following morning for updating. In the worst case scenario, only one day’s work would be lost. You could use this approach with a friend or neighbor, probably less frequently.

I know too many people who have gone through the heartbreak of losing the stories of their lives to hard drive crashes. Please, please, don’t let your name be added to this list! Back up your stories! Do it NOW!

Write now: about an unforeseen disaster in your life (may be computer-related, or not). Were you ready? What happened. Why? How did you cope? What would you do next time?