Nourishment & Healing

This is a post in pics. Last night, before attending a high school drama production my stepson was part of, I went for a solo saunter in the woods. By the end of the evening, I was nourished, fed, and inspired by a multitude of influences: the woods that surrounded me, the river that flowed beside the trail,

the sky in sprawl above in a budding spring blue,

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Everyone Has A Story

To listen to this post being read on my podcast, click here.

This post is in honor of World Storytelling Day, which by happenstance was yesterday (March 20th), the same day as was arranged our quarterly live storytelling event here in town called Tell Us Something (TUS). A pairing which was entirely coincidental by its orchestrater, Marc Moss.

The TUS guidelines for storytelling are as follows: they have to be about true personal experiences, fit in the span of 10 minutes, centered around the chosen theme, and must be given without the use of notes. Last night’s theme was: Right place, right time. 8 local storytellers got up on stage at the Wilma Theater, in front of a well-packed 850-seat venue of friendly faces, ready to listen.

Here’s my account of the evening, in order of appearance on stage:

1. Alex wore an orange Marty McFly vest and jazzy 80’s decor ball cap to regale us with a story about his last excursion to ComiCon, and encountering not 1, not 2, but 3 Deloreans, one of which he got the lifelong lasting pleasure to take a ride in. With the delightful confidence I’d never seen in a 13-year-old, he kicked off the evening with a breath of hope for our future, which I’m certain translated to every member of the audience.

2. His name was Michael, which meant I liked him right away, as derivatives of that name have followed me around in droves all my life and have always treated me well. He spoke artfully of his 70 years of life in the span of just 10 minutes, somehow managing to weave together having had a heart-attack, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, when his wife left him for another man, self re-invention, and travels over-seas.

3. Sarah opened with a mention of Ani Difranco, calling her a “weapons grade feminist folk singer,” which meant I liked her right away, too. The topic of divorce also made a cameo in her story, having left her husband for a woman whom she now has a child with. I saw fit to pen these two quotes from her in my pocket-sized notebook: “Whatever you do out of love, you can’t do it wrong,” and “I can only be where I am when I’m there.”

4. Heather wore a flower-print dress and continued in comradic fashion the theme of divorce. Like the others, it wasn’t in a sad country-song accord but more of a hard heart moment mentioning that spurred a re-posturing of a life once thought figured out. She spoke about her travels to Malawi, Africa, being a dancer, and ended by saying: “The Africa I went to see was not what I wanted, but it was what I needed.”

During the intermission, I shot up from my seat and went to stand against the wall next to the aisles, to write frantically in my pocket-sized notebook. Here’s what I wrote in mildly illegible form, as the theater sprang to life with a mixture of chatter and rustling about: (NOTE: while I’m tempted to make slight edits to this bit of writing for the sake of clarity and ease of reading, I’m resisting the urge and will include it just as I wrote it, hoping it makes some sort of sense)

These stories cut like butter on the battlefield of what it means to be human – and I pulsate with electricity like a bolt of lightning tossed to a tree top, firing up the atoms of everything in sight. I listen, absorbing inspiration like ears to sound in the wake of stories being told – and it’s words that matter, maybe it’s all that really does – I’m juiced up, ready to steamroll anyone in my way like an avalanche – shoot, I’ve got so much to say that I can’t write fast enough – this freekin theater is packed with story listeners being given permission to live their lives without shame, becoming unburdened by the fact that we stand in our own way when it comes to learning how to love and be loved, unfettered and free – and I want to take up shop situated on the shoulder of every person here and listen to their story, so I can keep on learning how to be myself amid the fray.

 

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Good Quotes

 

(You know you’re a writer when you take a picture of the notes you’re scribbling down while at a writer’s conference because you think your pen looks hella sexy.)       

I’ve had so much great input as of late, from a variety of sources, and have collected a smattering of quotes I’ve penned on whatever papered surface was in my midst. I wasn’t sure what I would do with these quotes, I was simply inspired to pen them down. In the interest of not containing these quotes on paper where only my eyes will glance upon them, I’ve decided to fashion this post and release them into the wild, where they belong.

Quotes from panelists during the Writing at Work conference, which took place at the University of Montana campus on Friday:

“You need to be ready to be rejected over and over and over. If one rejection email is going to crush you, you shouldn’t be a writer.”

“I can’t get too close to my hometown of Cut Bank, Montana – it’s population, elevation, and wind velocity are all the same number: 3,800.”

“Stick with your voice, we’re more capable than we think” and “Put in the time, even when you don’t want to.” – Pete Fromm

“Create occasions you have to rise to.”

“Find the joy in the work” and “I only learn things when I suck at it.” – Sarah Aswell (local comedian and comic writer)

“There’s often a crisis that precipitates inspiration.” – Editor of Beargrass Publications

“No woman writer thinks they have permission to write.”

Random quotes from random sources of inspiration (from songs to films; from books to videos on youtube; from articles to twitter posts):

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Early Morning Verses Of A Writer

 

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To listen in audio form of this post on my podcast: https://soundcloud.com/inmindfulmotion/early-morning-verses-of-a-writer

 

1.

Silence is enjoying a cup of tea as your sole responsibility.

Silence is what situates itself in the grooves clicking between the movie reel of thought.

Silence is where every end of day settles; and then stretches like a bridge into morning.

Silence is a disposition of character, a grace carried both firm and soft onto the battlefield, turning it to fertile ground.

Silence is anything which serves as a vehicle to transport us back to ourselves in such a way that it’s as though we never left.

Silence reveals truths the likes of which we already know but have forgotten.

Silence is not the absence of sound; it’s the full embodied inclusion of the total acoustic landscape shifting and shaping itself like the Grand Canyon,

shining in holy accord on a bluebird day.

 

2.

Hello new day.

I see you.

Though, I’m not sure many others do.

Not clearly anyhow.

It’s easy to lose sight,

to go blind.

It’s easy to regard today as being just the same as yesterday;

which will be the same as tomorrow, too.

But I know better.

Today IS a new day!

Ripe with possibilities and opportunities for
goodness & kindness & beauty to manifest.

With our thoughts we make the world.

With our thoughts we make the world.

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The Invitation

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside,
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

 

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A Hopi Elder Speaks

A Hopi Elder Speaks

“You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour.  And there are things to be considered . . .

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.”

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a good time!”

“There is a river flowing now very fast.  It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.  They will try to hold on to the shore.   They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.

“Know the river has its destination.  The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water.   And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.  At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves.  For the moment that we do,  our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

“The time for the lone wolf is over.  Gather yourselves!  Banish the word struggle from you attitude and your vocabulary.  All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

“We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

— attributed to an unnamed Hopi elder

Hopi Nation

Oraibi, Arizona