Some Day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey trailing snake scales, wing fragments and the musk of Earth and moon. Eyes will examine you for signs of damage, or change and you, too, will wonder if your skin shows traces of fur, or leaves, if thrushes have built a nest of your hair, if Andromeda burns from your eyes. Do not be surprised by prickly questions from those who barely inhabit their own fleeting lives, who barely taste their own possibility, who barely dream. If your hands are empty, treasureless, if your toes have not grown claws, if your obedient voice has not become a wild cry, a howl, you will reassure them. We warned you, they might declare, there is nothing else, no point, no meaning, no mystery at all, just this frantic waiting to die. And yet, they tremble, mute, afraid you’ve returned without sweet elixir for unspeakable thirst, without a fluent dance or holy language to teach them, without a compass bearing to a forgotten border where no one crosses without weeping for the terrible beauty of galaxies and granite and bone. They tremble, hoping your lips hold a secret, that the song your body now sings will redeem them, yet they fear your secret is dangerous, shattering, and once it flies from your astonished mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate before unfolding tremulous wings. — Geneen Marie Haugen, The Return Writer's Prompt:
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"You know how robins run about eight inches, then stop, cock their heads, and look and listen? If nourishment is there, they find it. My soul offers continual guidance and sustenance if only I will stop and listen often. " —Parker J. Palmer There is much to feel anxious about and much to keep us busy–overly busy these days. So many options arise of where to give our attention and energy. When we lose the ability to pause, hang out in a gap, or take a conscious breath, we will find ourselves exhausted, discouraged, overwhelmed, or (and) overcommitting . A bird can't always be in flight. Write about that. Without such pauses, we cannot listen to ourselves; we will not know how to listen, like the robin, for that sweet nourishment beneath our feet. Even what we most want will elude us because, as research reveals, chronic busyness doesn’t increase our satisfaction but decreases it. When we pause, we can consider what truly nourishes us and others. When we pause, we take a look inside and out—we bring a curious awareness to the moment or the task before us and listen but do nothing. We can choose to pause before we speak, before and during our meals, and while engaged in a creative activity. Rushing oneself or others is an act of aggression. A life without routine pauses is harmful to our well-being. In my writing, I take purposeful pauses. I don't go away from the writing to eat something or get distracted in another way. Instead, I stop and pause. Breathe. Be curious about where the writing is taking me and where it might take the reader. Natural gaps in our lives provide some pause, like waiting in line, taking a break between tasks, finishing up a meal, or some other activity—those moments when nothing has been planned, randomly occurring times of an opportunity to pause purposefully. "When was the last time you were bored—truly bored—and didn’t instantly spring to fill your psychic emptiness by checking Facebook or Twitter or Instagram? The last time you stood in line at the store or the boarding gate or the theatre and didn’t reach for your Smartphone seeking deliverance from the dreary prospect of forced idleness?" —Maria Popova, “How We Learn to Be Alone,” brainpickings.org We may discover discomfort in pauses, often telling us something is wrong. Or the pause may give us space to make a more conscious choice. In my yoga practice, these pauses let me be in the moment of a pose without rushing into the next one. That way, I receive even more benefits. Take a pause now. When I walked down the road taking only You, until the noise became less—and the light more true, then the river began to flow again under my skin. by Rebecca Cecchini, Her poems can be found throughout my book, THE CLUE of the Red Thread: Discovering Fearlessness and Compassion in Uncertain Times as places to take pause and notice. In my book, The Clue of the Red Thread, I offer the practice of Hosting the Edge. This practice is borrowed from David Hawkin's work on healing through awareness and various Buddhist practices of witnessing and mindfulness. Hosting the Edge is being present without adding a storyline so that one can release and heal from painful emotional states. (See the 3-minute practice video below.) Exploring the Edge is a practice of active contemplation. We explore these edges as writers and spiritual practitioners to increase our consciousness, insight and creativity. To stay intentional and present at these edges. At yoga class the other day, my teacher invited us to "explore the edge" of staying longer with a particular pose. We tend to be habitual in our poses and stop or give up; we assume our limits are less than they are. Explore the edge to get past the point of giving up. Explore this place of discomfort and transformation. Use your breath and curiosity to explore these edges. This is the discipline of the yogi. This practice of exploring the edge has helped me not give up but instead progress through resistance, laziness, or discomfort. Just before giving up or backing off from a commitment I made, I breathe, explore the resistance at this edge, and stay with it. I can say that I have discovered and accomplished more with this attitude. We can also explore our edges through our writing after the edginess has past. Explore those times where you found yourself at these edges of habit or absence, these places of discomfort and potential. Write about a recent edge. What was there for you to discover? What was the discomfort? And the potential? And, of course, we have these edges in our writing! Can you stay put and keep writing after the enthusiasm has quieted or the original idea has been written? Can you move past having said yes and live the yes? Can you explore this edge of "I feel I’m done, but I'm not done" and discover what else is there to write about? This is the discipline of the writer. Last week the invitation was to have creative and spiritual practices to return to--how the good life is made of these essentials to return to, no matter how far we may have departed from them (meditation, walking, writing, gardening, gathering together with friends, etc., ). But the pandemic really messed with us. Isolation, anxiety, feeling stuck, long Covid, and depression are some of the ways the pandemic still impacts our well-being. We are still recalibrating ourselves to a state of integrity and balance. Integrity meaning wholeness, healing that which is divided within us. And balance means being present for ourselves and our creative life while also tending to others. This means any practices of mindfulness, being present with the moment, is a practice of recalibration. The Pandemic, the very real dangers of losing our democratic republic, and our tendency toward overextending ourselves requires that we find ways to recalibrate. Recalibrate body and soul. Recalibrate to who we truly are and what we truly want. Recalibrate to what is meaningful. Recalibrate ourselves to the present moment. Recalibrate ourselves to our core principles of engagement. What are your core principles of engagement? (12 Steps. Lojong Principles, Courage & Renewal Touchstones? ) Write about that. How might you recalibrate with your core principles? Contemplate that. I refer to them as principles of engagment because when they are authentic principles they engage us in an active civil, creative and spiritual life. Once we recalibrate (something we do often) we have more energy for our creative pursuits. In fact, we get more energy from this recalibration because we are restoring ourself. Restoration through the pause we take to return to the present moment and then recalibrate to what truly nourishes our soul and community. For me, (and I believe for the majority of conscious people), we are in particular need of such recalibration from the pandemic as well as from this chronic state of stress we are collectively experiencing. Part of my recalibration practices include attending yoga class, walking every day, meditation, and recently relaunching my book: The Clue of The Red Thread: Discovering Fearlessness & Compassion in Difficult Times. Because this was finished and released during the pandemic I did not have the focus or means to truly launch it. The message of the book is particularly timely now. We need to rediscover our fearlessness and compassion. I feel the energy in my body and soul readjust and maneuver toward this intention of sharing the practices and message within this book. A book that was written in collaboration with Parker J Palmer. When we recalibrate in one way, everything leans towards this recalibration. Contemplate how that is true. We want to explore the Unknown with a map-- We want to know what to expect, or who we will meet up with. But how our mistakes will leave a trail that gives way to something new, or the greening along the path reminds us of something we might return to Someday. Maybe there’s a place that asks you to share a poem or song in order to receive a meal, or a good story might do; you start in the middle and go from there. Everything else will follow, the same way life follows light. As you walk on everything comes towards you. You must offer up your poem, your song, or your story to be known. Forget your name. Some will glance up from their lunch, most won’t. But you repeat your favorite phrase, over and over to the stranger, like the chickadee or wren at dawn and something beyond your glance responds. –Taken from The Zero Point Agreement: How to Be Who You Already Are, poem titled “Ahead,” by Julie Tallard Johnson When we are lost and involved in something that doesn't feed the soul or lift our hearts and minds, we may want to remember what does lift our hearts and minds. Once we remember what lifts us, we know what to return to. This returning to is a necessary part of the creative and spiritual life. Like in meditation, when our mind wanders, we gently return to the breath, the present moment. Returning to that which nourishes us and feeds the creative inner flame is an essential part of the truly lived life. A life that moves forward, paradoxically, by returning to. This invitation to return to and engage in what brings joy, connection, and purpose will empower joy, connection, and purpose. What matters is that we give ourselves something to return to--and that we do so when we find ourselves wandering too far beyond the boundaries of our creative and spiritual life. What is “something you might return to?” Does this bring you back home to yourself and the inner creative fire? Write about that. What we engage in is empowered. Contemplate that. I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.” From Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection (Green Writers Press, 2019). Posted by kind permission of the poet. Once every couple weeks I go in to pick up a sandwich at my favorite local restaurant, the Sunn Cafe in Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. When I went in this week the woman who brought out my sandwich greeted me with a big smile.
"So good to see you in here again," she said. That small welcome was the perfect "side" to my sandwich. While getting my haircut at The Salon by Charles, several people popped in to say hello or update him on their lives or announce an upcoming event. The energy inside The Salon, along with a reliably interesting conversation with Charles (the owner), and a great haircut, invites me back again and again. Recently I finally gave the local yoga studio a try. And have since rearranged my schedule to get to my favorite class. There I am greeted by name and meet up with familiar and new neighbors. These brief encounters of recognition and kindness can and will lift up everyone present. They feed the soul of our shared humanity and give us the sense of place and belonging we all deserve (and want). Write about some recent encounters that lifted your spirit, or gave you a new perspective. Write about a time you were or weren't recognized. There are many ways to recognize others without even knowing their names. How is this true for you? To write a book takes a lot of love toward ourselves and the world. Even though there is a limitless amount of love available, we need to do what it takes to tap into this love and accompanying energy. That's because with any meaningful project comes resistance. Resistance arrives along side something that you want to bring to the light, to life. This new life, this book or other creative project or action must push itself through the dark soil of doubt and fear. Push itself through the damp aloneness and make the choice to trust that there is light there, if I just keep moving my life forward. Push through the belief of insignificance. Resistance is a Trickster. She arrives with all her baggage, all her hindrances and patterns. But she is only present when there is something worthwhile wanting to get to the light. The bigger the resistance, the more tricky she is, and, the more meaningful the action. She's actually the soil for our intentions, dreams and projects. Resistance can come to as us as patterns like the one of us getting into other’s business rather than attending to our own life. ("Oh I have to focus on this, instead of my book.") Resistance can come as fear of success, or failure, or fear of mistakes or that someone won’t like what we write or do. ("I don't think I can actually pull this off. And if I do, who cares about what I have to say?") Resistance comes in the form of laziness, giving into patterns, over eating or drinking, watching one too many reruns. ("I deserve to just let everything go, life is hard." "I will maybe get to this later.") When understood as a friend we discover the Trickster Resistance brings with her the need to get to work. She insists that we bring to the world our gifts. The gifts we inherited at birth. Remember, the greater the gift, the stronger the resistance. And, a warning here. Resistance doesn't just go away. Ever. She is that soil to push through every time you are about to give up to doubt, or give into patterns. Consider your dreams and intentions. Consider what is bothering you now about the conditions of the world. Consider the projects you've started. Consider your inherent gifts. Notice the flavors of resistance that surround them. Understand them as the soil of your project and ideas. Love yourself enough to push through the fear, aloneness, darkness and doubt. Now get to work. Want some help moving through resistance? Sign up for my personal MENTORSHIP PROGRAM FOR WRITERS: HERE.
My first book was published in 1989 by Doubleday. I went on to self-publish this book and to write 10 more books. All my books have been published through traditional publishing houses. All my manuscripts had beta readers. Just this past few months I have had 4 of my writers become authors. One writer got accepted by a publisher on her 2nd submission! She had beta readers. She had me as her mentor. In this 7 month program, you will have 5 beta readers dedicated to you and your manuscript. We will meet once a month and twice in April. One month will be dedicated to you and your manuscript and publication journey. The journey begins Friday October 6th, 2023. Find out more or register HERE
"Women’s curiosity was given negative connotation, whereas men were called investigative. Women were called nosy, whereas men were called inquiring. In reality, the trivialization of women’s curiosity so that it seems like nothing more than an irksome snooping denies women’s insight, hunches, and intuitions. It denies all her senses. It attempts to attack her fundamental power.” –Clarissa Pinkola Estes My dog Lulu does not like to be leashed. She will however go for long walks with me, leashed, as the alternative to no walk. We make it to the dog park at least twice a week, so she can run free of restraint. Off leash she greets and plays with other dogs and chases her nose out beyond my view. I'm going for an analogy here. Where in your life do you feel leashed and unable to follow your nose, your curiosities and longings? Write about that. These leashed places are not safe. What would we do and experience differently, what would we pursue or chase, unleashed? Explore this. When was a time you escaped or slipped out of a leash and chased an idea till you caught it? Write about that. When we are discouraged to doubt authority or break the rules we stop following our noses. We hesitate to explore out beyond the tug of a leash. When we can't move our awareness and explorations out beyond what we have been instructed to see or experience, we are not really truly seeing what is possible. To be curious is to explore, to explore is to discover. Instead of doubting yourself, doubt what you are being told. The old myths and propaganda around doubt and curiosity—such that curiosity killed the cat and that it will get you in a heap of trouble—is a myth intended to control the congregation and keep naughty kids (and adults) in line. Propaganda and dogma's purpose is to make you unwilling to challenge what you are told or question authority. Rules set up so that you must follow them to get the prize makes you an acolyte, not a leader. In his seventh-century commentary on Aryadeva’s Four Hundred [Verses] on the Yogic Deeds of Bodhisattvas, Chandrakirti tells the story of a ship’s captain captured by an ogress. The ogress warns the captain never even to look, let alone venture, to the south of her island. This admonition arouses his doubt and uncertainty about what he is being told. He becomes curious, so, one day he evades her watchful eyes and steals away to explore. There in the south, he finds the king of horses, Balahaka, who will carry you away across the ocean to safety on the other shore if you hold on to even one hair of his mane. And so the captain escaped from the island on which he had been held prisoner. Such doubt is a perfect navigational tool, a way to ignite a sacred curiosity that leads to other possibilities. This doubt gets us to question, study, and investigate what we are told. We also question the appearance of phenomena and are not as easily fooled. When we listen to our doubts in this way we won’t be so easily controlled or imprisoned by others’ views. We will discover truth for ourselves and adventure out beyond the comfort zone of dogma put out by others. Besides, one person’s religious experience or antidote could be another’s imprisonment or poison. Write about that. Don’t spend your life on someone else’s island. Question everything of significance. Let all admonitions arouse in you a sacred curiosity of doubt. Follow your doubt (your curiosity) to the other side of things. Don’t be leashed by others’ beliefs or desires—break away. Explore. "You can’t sit around and wait for somebody to say who you are. You need to write it and paint it and do it."— Faith Ringgold "What do you see on the screen that may help you with your question?" –An Apple technician helping me navigate my new computer. This advice above was so simple and yet so clever! If only we could just let go of our resistances, breathe and find our answer in what's in front of us. In therapy I have often heard someone's solution in their questions. Resistance to what is in front of us is, I think, a universal experience. Steven Pressfield writes in his book, The War of Art how resistance is a sure sign that something is important to you. In fact, he emphasizes the bigger the resistance the more valuable the project.“The more important a call or action to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.” So, are all my resistances because the pursuit is part of my soul's evolution? Or is it something else? (Hint: it's something else). Turns out resistance isn't only attached to meaningful pursuits. Being afraid you won't be able to accomplish the thing you want or need to accomplish, is a sure way to get you to do everything BUT that one thing. This flavor of resistance can come up in more mundane yet uncomfortable tasks like figuring out something on the computer. Recently, I avoided even trying to fix something technical. First I attempted to get someone else to figure it out and fix it. That didn't work. So I sat down and thought, I can do this. If I just stick with it I can l figure it out. Just don't give up. This project was not part of my soul's evolution. And, it's something that needed to be fixed. I decided to stay with it until I figured it out. In this case it took 6 hours sans human support (Google hasn't any human support). What relief and pride I felt when I figured it out on my own and fixed the problem. How does this work in our spiritual and creative life? What about (not) writing my novel? Is my resistance to finishing the final draft all about resisting what is meaningful to me? Turns out, no. I am simply afraid I can't do the work. I am afraid that I won't really be able to figure out how to write a good (or great) novel. That's it really. That's my demon here. Afraid I won't be able to accomplish a well-drafted book. So, now that I know the truth, that I am not resisting writing my novel because it is such an important soulful pursuit (though it may be that too), no, I am simply afraid I won't be able to actually do the work that it will take. So, What if I were to approach the novel like I did my computer problem? Just stick with it, figure things out as I go? Ask myself what the computer tech asked me: What in front of me can help me accomplish what I want? That's my plan. Each day I will spend at least 15 golden minutes sitting with my novel, using all that I have in front of me to work with. I have many novelists before me to learn from, I have my story, my protagonist and antagonists, along with my 100,000 written words. I am going to show up for the work and see what happens. What can happen. This persistence instead of avoidance arrived as a gift from my recent meditation practices. 15 months ago I started the Anapanasati practice of meditation. I almost missed out on this opportunity by backing out of a retreat at the last minute. Then with a poke from the teacher I saw a pattern of not following through, not showing up. So every morning since (I've missed only 6 or7 days), I have sat for an hour of meditation practice. Just showed up. The benefits, though mostly subtle, are nothing less than miraculous for me. So here late in life I have learned better how to simply show up. Or, how to show up better. Be consistent and persistent with what wants and can unfold. I can learn to write a great novel, if I just keep showing up. I can learn how to fix computer problems if I just stay put and look at the screen and ask, "What do you see on the screen that may help you with your question?" (And yes, reaching out for live support when it's necessary and available). One more mention and then back to my novel (well, after a good walk with my dog). I have found that what helps me to show up is knowing how and when to let go. (And what to let go of). In every creative and spiritual success there is a letting go. Until next time, Write about what you keep avoiding. Make a list. What happens when you simply show up and do the work? Write about that. How did it feel when you figured something out for yourself? Write about that. "Letting go is a natural ability. It is not something new or foreign. It is not an esoteric teaching or somebody else’s idea or a belief system. We are merely utilizing our own inner nature to get freer and happier."
–Hawkins, David R.. Letting Go |
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©2024 Julie Tallard Johnson, MSW, LCSW
The Writer's Sherpa
Transformational & Embodied Counselor & Mentor
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The Writer's Sherpa
Transformational & Embodied Counselor & Mentor
Most rights reserved. Admin