yourpassions.tk

Do you believe in magic? Let me ask a deeper question here: What is magic? I keep a link to Dictionary.com on my favorites bar. The drift of their definition is that magic is appearances created by sleight of hand and devious means. I'm so disappointed. I do believe in magic, and the magic I believe in is the appearance of the unexpected, that which is not ordinarily possible. A related word is supernatural. That word, supernatural, brings me to the point of this post. Questions may be the single most powerful life writing tool. I refer to those open questions you pose on the page, then suspend thought and write the answers from wherever they come — your subconscious, God, the Universe. I'm less concerned about the source than the substance. Winding along the path of my daily adventure of discovery on the pages of my journal, I wrote into a dream fragment that took place in a church of sorts, a sacred space. I posed a question: “What is sacred? What does the concept mean?” Tw...

This morning as I wrote in my journal a name flowed out onto the page along with the thought, “Which Truth is True?” I have many conflicting feelings about this person, whom I'll refer to as Heesh, because nothing about the identity of this person is important. On impulse I began listing “true statements” about Heesh. I admire Heesh. Heesh makes me nuts. Heesh sometimes says hurtful things. Heesh is a b... . Sometimes I avoid contact with Heesh. Heesh doesn't mean to be hurtful. I learn a lot from Heesh. Etc. The list grew. Without conscious transition or intention, I began adding statements about my role in this relationship, the filters I perceive through. My filters subtly shifted as I realized the role they have been playing in my perceptions of this person. I became aware that I can choose filters.  At some point my hand quit moving and I fell into a reverie, staring at the tiny lights on the small Christmas tree a few feet away. I became transfixed by the glow as it warm...

How often do you stop to think about the source of mushrooms when you slice one up for an elegant meal you’re preparing? Did you know that commercial mushrooms grow in manure in dark caves? “Wait a minute,” you may be thinking. “Are you trying to spoil my dinner? And what on earth do mushrooms, manure and and caves have to do with life writing?” More than you would have guessed. Mushrooms are a gourmet item, turning many a mundane meal into a foodie’s feast. Stories perform a similar function, perhaps livening conversation at that feast. Though not all stories have mushroom-like roots in dung, and not all originate in darkness, some of the most compelling ones do. I mention this to urge you to look back through your life and explore a few of those dark moments you generally prefer to leave behind closed doors in the dungeon of memory. Grab a pen and paper and fling open that door, fearlessly facing the never-quite-forgotten. Do this with a strong sense of hope and confidence that yo...

Yesterday was my dad's 90th birthday. One day last week the following conversation took place between my husband and me: “Rats! I forgot to shop for a card for my father!” “Why don't you make him something like Gil made my mother?” Gil is a friend of my mother-in-law's who lives in her retirement community. For her recent 98th birthday, he snagged some historical highlights of her birth year from the web, added a few sappy sentiments at the end, and wowed everyone. It was sweet, but … if I were going to do something like that, it would be a bit more, well, elegant. And definitely not sappy. “I don't want to. It would take forever. … But … let me look at Gil's thing again.” He dug it out. Hmm, I thought. How long could it take to pull a few facts off the web. A little bit more formatting, maybe a couple of graphics. Surely I could think of a suitable conclusion. I cranked up Google to explore 1920. Most events pertained to war, the aftermath of war, or what would lat...

TURKEY DELIGHT Twas nearly Thanksgiving and all through the house, not a creature was stirring 'cept maybe a mouse, The fridge held a turkey long since safely dead, and visions of cranberries danced in my head.  Then I glanced out the window and what did I see? A full-feathered turkey looking straight back at me! The turkey was perched aloft on our car, I suppose it had flown there from somewhere afar.  It returned to its preening with no further thought; And I yelled for a camera to snap a great shot. My mate came a running with shutter all set. He set about snapping, each shot the best yet. The turkey's head rose and down she did squat, A gift she then left us, and not in a pot. Ere long her four flock mates ambled onto the scene, And the turkey decided to return to the green. Her huge feathered wings spread open quite wide to assist her ungainly hop down to the side.  Then off the flock waddled, deep into the woods In search of delectable dinnertime...

My overdue post was all written, and I was ready to pop a picture into place and click Publish. Something awful happened, the stuff of which nightmares are made. Blogger burped. That event had cosmic consequences. The cursor flew down to a graphic near the end. Then Blogger burped again.  POOF! No more post. Nada. Blank white space, as pure as new-fallen snow appeared in the Compose window.   

The crude stick drawings above tell a story: Soku and Buho have a spat. Soku apologizes. They reconcile. The end.  In October I attended a Road Scholar program at the Pilgrim Pines Conference Center near West Swanzey, New Hampshire. During the course of the week, Alan Rumrill, Director of the Historical Society of Cheshire County shared stories of local history and legends. One of my favorite was about Mrs. Taggart. One winter day in the pre-Revolutionary era, Mr. Taggart took off for town to stock up on desperately needed provisions. He got caught in a blizzard that detained him for an indefinite period of time, and back then this meant days or weeks, not hours. When he was finally able to return, he did so with dread, fearing his family had perished from hunger. As he finally emerged into the clearing, he found smoke rising from the chimney and his family hale and hearty. Mrs. Taggart had slaughtered and butchered a moose with the family axe, ensuring her family's survival. Fr...

Drawing by Rick S. Hall Am I the only one with 23 unread books piled on my shelf? Each seemed so urgent when I found it, mostly at the Library’s Used Book Sale. All were titles I’d heard of, and intended to check out, so why not buy? I feel stressed! Am I the only one unsubscribing like crazy from e-mail lists? Skimming blogs I used to savor? Am I the only one who doesn’t keep up with all 583 Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter friends? I feel stressed! Now the question arises — if I’m stressed and slowing my reading down, maybe others are too, and I’m still writing this blog — is anyone still reading it? Well, yes. I do check stats now and then and see people stopping by from all over the world, and bless all of you who leave comments. BUT ... I’m keenly aware this could change. Any day. On a whim. The day really could come when everyone turns off, unplugs, tunes out — for a day, a month. Maybe for good. So what will we all do when everyone is too stressed out to connect with the amazing ...

Art by Willie Jimenez J.F YOU REALLY WANT TO HEAR about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told any-thing pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all—I'm not saying that—but they're also touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything. I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy. … — J.D. Sallinger, Catcher in the Rye  I read this book when I was a freshman in ...

Once, when his father was alive, Langdon had heard his mom begging his father to “stop and smell the roses.” That year, Langdon bought his father a tiny blown-glass rose for Christmas. It was the most beautiful thing Langdon had ever seen. . . the way the sun caught it, throwing a rainbow of colors on the wall. “It’s lovely,” his father had said when he opened it. “Let’s find a safe spot for it.” Then his father had carefully placed the rose on a high dusty shelf in the darkest corner of the living room. A few days later, Langdon got a stool, retrieved the rose, and took it back to the store. His father never noticed it was gone. — from Angels and Demons , Dan Brown Doesn’t this passage just tear at your heart? Isn’t it amazing that such a tiny detail can say so much about an entire relationship. In only 124 words and one fragile, non-fragrant glass rose, Dan Brown has captured the essence of Langdon’s father and their relationship, while also saying a lot about Langdon. Of course ther...

Sharing words of story connects people in a powerful way. And as anyone who has ever listened to David Sedaris knows, stories read by their author take on an extra dimension of life. I love reading to groups regardless of who wrote the story, and I especially enjoy reading my own work.  My love of reading to others was sparked by Mrs. Schmidt, the third of my string of four first-grade teachers (we moved a lot that year). She insisted the Blue Birds read “with expression.” I loved it! From that day on, I read to anyone who would sit still and listen — sister, brother, classmates, children, grandchildren. Today I read mostly to classes and writing groups. Most recently, I read one of my stories for the Talent Night event at a Road Scholar program in New Hampshire. To my horror, I forgot to take a copy of the story with me, so I had to rewrite it before I could read it. But read it I did, and I’m still basking in the warm glow of appreciation. I highly recommend this experience to others...

I write to listen I write to order swirling thought I write to still my mind I write to make thinking visible I write to understand I write to heal I write to learn — about life, love, self I write to anchor insight I write to celebrate Story  I write to celebrate Life  I write to celebrate the Sacred I write to connect I write to uplift I write to encourage I write to comfort I write to explain I write to instruct I write to praise I write to express gratitude I write to celebrate success I write to document life I write because I can I write because I must Writing is my practice Writing is my path Writing is my work Writing is my calling Write now: make a list of all the reasons you write.   Photo by Matsuyuki

“She hears voices.” “He talks to himself.” Until recent years such observations conveyed suspicion of ... insanity! Or maybe the dazzling brilliance of an eccentric genius. Few people want to be thought of as the first or qualify for the second. Could that be why so few people know about this powerful journaling technique? Posing questions in your journal and then writing down the answers may be the single most powerful tool available for insight, healing and problem-solving. The more you use it, the stronger it grows. This technique is recommended by all leading journal experts for developing insight, solving problems, enhancing creativity and more. Let’s take a quick look at a few Power Questions and how to use them. Later posts will explore specific questions in more depth. The first step of the simple process is to describe a troubling or puzzling situation, then follow it up with a question like one of these: What can I learn from this? An ideal question to pose after recording an...

When I saw this picture in a viral PowerPoint going around the email universe, it was love at first sight. Perhaps that's partly because I just returned from a couple of weeks of studying colonial New England history and it came alive for me in ways I'd never expected. My world became larger when I “blew off the dust” from pages of history I'd never explored. In this picture I also see the potential for my own volumes of writing to be stored away on a shelf (physical or virtual) for decades — maybe a century or longer. This picture gives me hope that at some point, someone will blow the dust off those words and they will enrich the future just as olden stories enrich my life today. Who knows? I write primarily for my own enjoyment and edification, and then for the enlightenment and entertainment of family. Should future generations derive unexpected value, so much the better! Write now: explore some old pages. If you are fortunate enough to have family history documents, t...

Old woman or young girl? You know how sometimes the same information keeps coming at you from all sides? The classic illusion puzzle illustrated above has taken over my life lately. It began as I wrote in my journal yesterday morning and realized that I could look at a situation from 180º around for a point of view my  more to my liking, then I could clearly see both points of view. "It's all in how I look at things," I wrote. That reminded me of another favorite illusion, and rather than finding it elsewhere, I made my own. Notice how the bars and word look shaded? Click the image for proof they're not.  Click and wait 4 seconds for alternate view Within the next twenty-four hours, I noticed references to this sort of reframing several places. Unfortunately, the notes I made on the sources were mental, and like most great story ideas that aren’t written down, they vanished. (Note to self: write things down! ) One was in a book I read. Another was in a blog, and the...

“Lifting the cloud of depression is one of the documented benefits of expressive writing, aka life writing, especially in the form of journaling, rants or freewriting.” I got sidetracked after I wrote that sentence and before I sat back down to finish this blog post, I checked my e-mail. There I found the latest edition of Amber Starfire’s stellar Journaling Through Life Ezine . The first sentence in her feature article reads, “A recent article on health said that feelings of helplessness and lack of control are significant factors contributing to depression, particularly for women.” Well, hey! You know the saying, “Great minds run in the same channels.” Back in the ‘70s when I was a psychology grad student, Locus of Control was all the rage, and research papers and theses (including mine) in psychology departments all over the country incorporated Rotter’s Locus of Control Inventory. A strong correlation was found between a strong external locus of control and depression. Transla...

The Tree of Life Writing   Since a picture is worth 1000 words, the picture above should represent about three blog posts worth of insight. I first recognized the interrelationships among the various aspects of life writing over a year ago and included a simpler graphic with a post, The Life Writing Progression , on July 5, 2009. Sarabelle gifted me with this picture last month while I was preparing material for my Writing for the Health of It class. I’d been thinking about the core Story (capital S) that defines us, and how everything we write grows out of that Story and expresses aspects of it. I was considering how some of our writing is deeply personal and earthy, best left out of sight and unshared. That root writing leads to insight and imparts power to our words and voice as we write publicly visible stories and essays. When I began pondering the role of memoir in tying together the loose ends of life, and recalled that memoir is composed of the brush strokes of smaller stori...

Would you believe there are more than 1000 words and phrases to describe feelings. 1000? That's right. And most are single words. I've compiled a list of that many. The list does not include any metaphors, and undoubtedly there are at least another hundred words not there. The list has history. It began in June 2007 when I read a blog post th at prompted me to ask people to send me lists of emotion labels. Results poured in as friends and readers submitted lists with hundreds of words and phrases. It took a bit of doing to compile them all and eliminate the duplicates. I was fascinated to see how little overlap there was among the various lists. I've since had several classes make lists as an exercise, and the master list continued to grow. Now that it has reached the 1000 mark, it's ready for public consumption. If you think of any words not listed there, please send them to me so i t can continue to grow! You may wonder why it matters to know all these words. Genera...

Sometimes a book catches my eye and a small whisper urges me to read it. That happened yesterday as I helped sort books for the annual Used Book Sale at our library. The author’s name, Erica Jong, caught my eye first and triggered memories of reading FEAR OF FLYING caught my eye first, sparking a memory of reading that ground-breaking volume a few years after it was first published in 1973. Set in much smaller type, the title, INVENTING MEMORY: A Novel of Mothers & Daughters , furthered my interest. Perhaps it will have some Truth about memory and memoir, I thought, setting it  aside to take home. I’m not quite halfway through the volume, and have mixed feelings about it several aspects of the book. But even so, I’m enchanted with the abundance of dazzling descriptions, and I have found many truths about memory and memoir. I’ll share a few here and leave you to savor them and suck out whatever meaning they may have for you.     “It’s queer enough just to write books—to separate ...

I’ve nibbled on Christina Baldwin’s Storycatcher on several occasions. This book is like a pot of cream soup — flavorful, rich and nourishing, and hard to quantify. But I finally “get it.” When I began reading, I was wearing my author hat, looking for yet more tips on how to write stories or memoir. This book is larger than that. It isn’t a book about writing. This book is about Story, not stories. The concept of Story transcends events that fill stories. Story is life itself. It’s the lens we use to define the essence of who we are. We all have a Story, though few of us are aware of what this may be. It’s our measuring stick, our comfort zone, our boundaries and guidelines. It’s the sum total of our experience, beliefs and values. I stand in awe of Story. It’s there are surely as the air I breath, but like the fish in the ocean, because it’s just there, I never noticed. Grasping the significance of Story is like finding the jigsaw puzzle box cover and glimpsing the potential of the ...

>After learning that I teach and write about journaling, a woman I recently met asked me a heart-wrenching question. She told me that her adult daughter died last year and left instructions with her significant other that she did not want her mother to read her journals. Then she asked, “Should I read them?”  My reflexive answer was simple: “No! I wouldn’t if I were you.” We discussed the matter briefly, and I could sense her disappointment with my answer. Clearly she’d hoped for permission to cling to that forbidden fragment of her beloved daughter, to know her as fully as possible under the circumstances. But I stand by my answer for the following reasons: Her daughter asked that they not be shared with Mom. This a chance for Mom to honor her daughter’s wishes and memory in this last way. Journals are a place to write with brutal honesty about our own shortcomings and uncertainties. They are a place to try on ideas the way we try on clothing in a store. Just for fun I often try on...