Category: Creativity

Posted on

Where Did the Center Go?

Have you noticed how many of us are nervous, overworked, over-scheduled, and often puzzled on how to separate truth from fabrication? What’s going to happen? Who will tell us what’s going on?  

We are most confident when we stand in the middle, surrounded by familiar faces, roles, and tasks. From a solid center, we know what to do. We can choose a goal, make plans, find resources and collaborators. We can predict with confidence. Paths emerge. All we have to do is choose one.

But when the center evaporates and we stand on the edge of things, uncertainty beckons. When the familiar dissipates, who knows what lurks in the chaos beyond the wall? Stories of monsters waiting to devour us titillate our senses, reminding us to stay put and stay safe.

But that’s not the only choice. When the safety of the ordinary fails, another response is called for. If we stop, even for a moment, we might remember something. A shiver, a feeling, a vague memory of what once was and could be again.

We might recall that we are more than what the world sees. We might remember that the outer world reflects a deeper reality. We might remember our soul sitting deep inside us, ever patient, ever waiting for us to hear its whispered call. 

“In the interval between each thought, in the interval between each heartbeat, we remember what we always knew.”

(William Irwin Thompson)

Peace does not happen out there. Peace starts with those willing to look for new responses, new ways of being in the world. Inside each person who chooses peace over strife, a bud of solitude can bloom into an awareness of the vast creative nature of what connects us to all that lives.

We can access that awareness through our Creative Self, a bridge between our ordinary waking mind and the soul. The Creative Self invites us to be more, know more, remember more. It is calm, patient, joyful, and playful. It wants to paint a picture, compose a poem, dance all night and then watch the sunrise offer the promise of another day. The Creative Self plays a game with no winners and losers because its game will never end.

Peace starts with us. We start small. We slow down. We remember that even when the center of society is shifting into something we can’t fathom, we have our own center.

To remember who you really are, try a few simple techniques:

  • Find time to be alone without tasks or the buzz of electronics. Embrace stillness. Even a few minutes of silence can clear your mind and promote a sense of peace.
  • Spend time in nature. Grass, trees, lakes, a running brook, or an ocean can soothe our minds and remind us we are part of something huge. A hike in the mountains, a walk in a park, sitting in your garden. All are healing and peaceful.
  • Set aside time for creative work. Learn to draw, record your memories, play with clay. Even using colored pencils to fill in the images in an adult coloring book has the power to evoke the playful child within  and increase feelings of peace.
  • Find a child or a dog, then play with them. You’ll  have to sit on the floor, but it’s worth it, since they are our teachers in loving without judgment.

Our center hasn’t gone anywhere. Our task is to unearth it, climb inside, and look out at our world with different eyes.

Posted on

Finding Your True Voice

Journaling is a bridge to the Creative Self. For writers, journaling is a warm up exercise, a place to practice craft, to make sense of our thoughts and ideas. It’s a private exercise, not meant for any eyes but our own.

It works equally well for those with no desire to publish fiction or nonfiction.  It’s a simple, practical way to process our experience, to learn, change, and grow.

In your journal, you can tell the truth.  The whole truth, unvarnished, however messy and convoluted.

You don’t have to be “nice.” You don’t need the diplomatic turn of phrase. You don’t have to hedge, be vague, hesitate, or wonder if what you have to say will be accepted.

THERE IS A RULE:

NO ONE READS YOUR JOURNAL

The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. 

Margaret Atwood

If you’re upset, angry, feel left out, not good enough, put down, ill at ease, or if you don’t know how you feel, but know it isn’t good, this is the place to go. This is where you can say it all. To other people. To yourself. To the world.

To journal is to become a truth teller in training. To practice being honest. To let go of inhibitions, fears,  hesitancy, or doubt that what you have to say is not good enough. What matters is not pleasing others, but finding your authentic voice.

If you move on from journaling and write stories, essays, or books for the public, it’s even more important to tell the truth. Your truth. Facts matter, but in any story, the emotional journey matters more. No matter what you write about, your take on it will be your own.

In my journaling practice, I started simple. Stayed on the surface. What happened? How upset I was. How angry. Misunderstood. I was right, they were wrong. My journal was a record of what happened and how I felt.

But as I kept going, exploring my feelings and reactions, I went deeper, gaining perspective and getting more honest.

Not that I had been lying before, but I was peeling off the layers of my outer perception so I could see beneath the surface. Like floating face down on the surface of the sea and catching glimpses of shells, a clump of seaweed, or a crab burrowing into the sand.

I started asking different questions. What was the truth? Had I spun a tale of half-truths to justify my actions? So everyone else could feel satisfied? What really motivated me? What hurt the most? Did this pain feel familiar? What was under the pain? How much was I trying to please others by diluting what I said?

The more often we show up on the page and push ourselves further into that space under our ordinary awareness, the more relief we feel. We let go. We laugh at ourselves. We learn. We gain another degree of freedom.

So, write it out. Dig deep. Ask your younger self what she has been longing to say since you were three years old.

Her wisdom might surprise you.

I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.       Joan Didion

Posted on

What is Healing?

I teach a course in writing for healing because I’ve learned that journaling about difficulties in life leads to new understanding, insight, and compassion. It can even lead to creating a new story for our life.

Words heal. Thoughts heal.

So what is healing in our difficult, erratic world?

  • Anything that helps us mend, lifts our spirits, invigorates us, points in new directions
  • Insight, changing our mind, understanding a different point of view, feeling the connection of all life on earth, however fleetingly
  • Friends, companions, colleagues, adversaries
  • Meeting a challenge, learning a new skill, finding the courage to speak our truth
  • A band-aid, an aspirin, herbs, medicine, massage, loving touch, laughter, a good listener, a friendly smile
  • Sitting still on the bank of a river, on a beach, in a high meadow inhaling the scent of pine needles
  • Quieting the mind, holding a sleeping child, stroking the fur of a beloved pet
  • Spotting a rare animal on a hike, sunlight dancing through treetops, birdsong
  • Poetry, music, dancing for joy, writing from the heart, saying what we mean
  • Using our creative gifts to make someone smile. 

In the book,  Healing Words: The Power of Prayer and the Practice of Medicine, Larry Dossey, MD, discusses the concept of “prayerfulness,” a state where a person does not pray for something in the traditional sense, but lives with a sense of the sacred, of being aligned with “something higher.”

Prayerfulness accepts without being passive and is grateful without giving up. It is willing to stand in the mystery of life when the rational mind falters. It is also related to recorded instances of spontaneous healing, from cancer and other difficult diagnoses.

Local writer Lynn C. Miller and friends contemplate healing on their latest podcast of The Unruly Muse.

In this episode, John and Lynn search for the soothing moments, the healing balm, the uplifting. In a world fractured and fractious, a country aching for change and most of all relief, possibilities occur that can lessen the load and lead to equanimity. We find comfort in song, music, connection with others, the natural world, and childhood dreams of unbounded time.

I view healing as more change than repair—as growth, becoming, learning, wisdom, humility.

For a person on a healing path, life is no longer routine, tethered to the demands of the external world. It becomes magical. Intuition, feelings, and impulses are welcomed and explored. 

The magical approach to life assumes we have had a hand in creating everything we encounter. And that means if we don’t like what we experience, we can change it.

Change our words. Change our minds. Change our lives. 

Posted on

Our Stories Change Us

Do you love to tell stories? Do friends say you ought to write a book? Do you take them seriously?

Whether or not you aim for publication, telling your stories is a great way to learn about who you are, how you’ve lived your life, and what you’d like to change.

For years I’ve taught a course on Writing for Healing, because I believe that people who express how they feel about difficult, stressful, and traumatic life situations can change their lives. Once we move from stress, depression, and pessimism to hopefulness, anything is possible.

The good news is, it isn’t hard. Writing for healing means journaling about what happened and how you feel about. The writing does not need to be shared, published, or even re-read. Simply putting down the words is enough.

Years of research have shown that writing requires us to use the analytical brain to find the words and concepts to describe what happened. It also uses the emotional brain to attach those words and concepts to our feelings. When we write for healing, immune function increases. With less energy spent pushing down our feelings, our t-cells are more energetic, helping us stave off colds and viruses.

People who regularly write about difficult experiences find they come up with new solutions to problems, understand the patterns of their lives, and learn how to address future challenges. They discover their thought processes can heal them!

Another benefit of personal writing is to examine the stories we live by. Our parents teach us who we are, what we can expect from life, what is possible and what’s out of reach. We internalize these stories and all those that follow, then behave as if they are true. 

But, wait a minute! They’re stories! Stories can change!

Writing a new story is a wonderful way to explore how we might change our lives for the better.

My neighbor lives by the story that she is not talented enough to paint the pictures she sees in her mind. Discouraged by an art teacher in high school and told by her parents that art is not practical, she put aside her passion and studied accounting. At mid-life, she is considering that her story about what is possible, practical, and safe is one she is ready to discard.

Journaling to learn about ourselves, to heal, to grow and develop works! 

At minimum, we feel better. And for those who persevere, it can lead to shedding worn-out ideas and embracing a new identity.

It may even inspire you to write a short story, novel, or memoir. Creative expression of any type is an antidote for feelings of unease, despair, even stagnation that can arise when we don’t allow our authentic self to express through us.

So, write, paint, dance, plant a garden, design a house. Listen to the inner wisdom waiting to be heard.

Open the door!

Posted on

Are You Looking for a Writer’s Group?

One of the basic rules of writing seems self evident. Don’t confuse your reader.

But how do you know if your writing is clear?  Your characters relatable?  The pace fast enough to hold a reader’s attention? 

How do we identify  personal writing quirks that drag down our sentences? Like using very, almost, began to, kind of, a bit, just, in order to.  

Is our writing less direct because we use filter words like, “He saw the woman cross the street”  instead of “The woman crossed the street.”

Are our tenses consistent?  Is it clear who’s speaking?  Are paragraphs so long they become cumbersome to read?

Errors and misunderstandings about what makes prose clear and inviting can be hard to pinpoint in our own work.  Grammar programs can help, and so can other writers willing to be honest and supportive.

Finding the right feedback group is important.  You may want a genre-specific group, or one with writers who have about the same amount of experience you have. Try to be clear about your intention and what you hope to offer and gain from participation.

For in-person groups, try Southwest Writers, our local organization of writers helping writers. They have regular meetings, speakers, workshops, publishing opportunities and contests in addition to information about local groups.

Meetup is another option for those who want in-person meetings.  And, if you don’t find what your looking for, consider starting a group. Local bookstores are a good way to find book clubs and meet other writers. 

There are lots of online groups and communities. Here are some links to get you started.

https://www.clevergirlauthor.com/online-writing-groups

https://iimskills.com/online-writing-communities

Students have asked me if I teach in-person feedback groups. The answer is yes, I have in the past, and am considering starting another group for people ready to give and receive honest feedback to improve their craft.

If you are currently working on fiction or memoir and are interested in joining a group, contact me at carol@carolhollandmarch.com. 

Include your name, contact info, what you are writing, and why you think a group would help you improve.

Posted on

The Gift of Acceptance

When I attended a school in California to learn to meditate, a seven-week experiment  turned into a three-year program of transformation. The teachers used no books or written material. All instruction was verbal, in the tradition of the great mystery schools of ancient times. 

Similar to Gnosticism in its approach, at that unconventinal school we learned to understand and work with our energy systems. They taught us to find and release ideas, beliefs, experiences, and patterns that hindered us from being a clear channel for our own highest information. In other words, we learned how to invite direct perception of our own higher/deeper aspects that are connected to Source.

Over and over, we were reminded to “stay in present time” which was both a concept and a grounding technique. 

This is a tall order. Although I learned how to accomplish it in my sacred meditation and reading spaces, ordinary life was more challenging. 

Accepting what comes with an open heart is a key to healing. Only through accepting and noticing both positive and negative events can I learn what hidden beliefs and karmic conditions influence me through what psychology calls the “shadow” identity.

For me, the first step was to stop resisting. Another tall order, especially with losses and health issues. The second step could not happen until I accepted the actual conditions of my life and found the reason my biofield had attracted them.  Then, change and healing became possible.

For some of us–stubborn, opinionated, and slow to learn–these steps are taken again and again. 

Mindset matters.  Looking for the lesson, the pearl, the elusive needle hidden in the chaff, is a habit of thought that develops over time. With practice. 

Although “awakening” to Source was not where I started, it has become my lifelong journey. The lessons continue to come, showing me deeper levels of my experience than I ever dreamed of accessing.

All creative work, all soul work, creates resistance. I don’t know why; it seems a function of how our mental minds work. I learned to deal with it first in my writing, and those lessons have served me well. As long as I remember to stay humble. As one of my teachers said long ago, “We’re all bozos on this bus.” 

Humor matters. So does compassion. We know about compassion for others. We strive to express it without erasing the boundaries that keep us safe. And some of us have to learn compassion for ourselves. A worthy goal.

Today I was inspired by the words of the Dalai Lama in his Bodhisattva Prayer for Humanity.

“May I be a guard for those who need protection

A guide for those on the path

A boat, a raft, a bridge for those who wish to cross the flood

May I be a lamp in the darkness

A resting place for the weary

A healing medicine for all who are sick

A vase of plenty, a tree of miracles

And for the boundless multitudes of living beings

May I bring sustenance and awakening

Enduring like the earth and sky

Until all beings are freed from sorrow

And all are awakened.”

Posted on

The Joy of Finishing

This week I finished a short story I’ve been noodling around with for about five years. It started with an image of an old woman building a circular wooden device in her backyard. I saw her in a seaside town on a New England island, threatened by rising sea levels. She refused to evacuate, instead collecting items from the people in the village to add to her circle, which would become a magical shrine.

The finished version is quite different. There is still an old woman, but she lives in ancient times and travels to a village being held hostage by armed invaders who are waiting for the harvest so they can steal it to supply their army stationed nearby. She builds a circle in the forest, constructed of stone, and collects items from the villagers for a shrine, although no one knows why.

I always knew how the story would end. Rarely do I start a story without knowing its end, although I may not know the middle. The end is the most satisfying part, and when I finished what I now call “Mosaic,” I realized why it took so long.

When I started, I had a vague grasp of what the character was doing, but not until I knew more about the transformation she would undergo did the piece come together.

That is often the way. The impulse comes. Sometimes an image. A character. A setting. A title. But not enough for a complete story.

Patience has never been one of my virtues, but I’ve learned that forcing my creative energy to bend to the demands of my analytical mind is not helpful.

In other areas of my life and work, setting goals and making plans works fine. In rewriting, editing, finding markets, developing classes, and working with students, a loving discipline is useful.

But not for the initial creation.

For that, I must wait. Surrender to the process.  Sometimes a day or two. Sometimes years.

I used to judge myself for the waiting. Then I noticed that waiting is valuable. It allows the creative impulse to gather itself, to grow and become more than it was.

Slowly, I learned the rhythm and timing of my Creative Self, and stopped scolding it for not marching along as quickly as ego-mind preferred.

Not that I don’t work on other things while a story is germinating. Of course I do. One of my mentors paraphrased the well-known saying:

All things come to she who waits

If she who waits works like hell while she waits.

I take that seriously. I’m a writer. I write every day. But I don’t force myself to complete what is not ready.

There is joy in waiting.

In allowing.

In surrendering to the growth required before a complete story peeks out from behind the veil.

Finishing any creative project is worth celebrating, so no matter what happens to “Mosaic,” published or not, appreciated or not, I’m happy. I finished.

Posted on

Are You Waiting for Inspiration?

My students often talk about “waiting for inspiration.”

They’re right. There’s nothing better than a thunderbolt from the blue—the perfect idea, the fully formed story, the image of the painting that drops into your mind. You can’t wait to get it down. The rush carries you through a creative session. An hour. A whole day. Maybe a week. Very exciting.

But after a while, you feel different. The rush has trickled away. The inspiration has faded. You look at what you produced. Maybe you like it, maybe not. You decide to keep going, but that rush of adrenalin does not return. The work feels like drudgery. You decide to wait until inspiration strikes again.

A common misconception is that creativity is separate from you. A visitation. A blessing. It can feel that way, and those sudden flashes may be a wake-up call. Maybe your Creative Self is trying to shake you out of your routine.

I had those experiences like that when I was working on my first novel. Ideas, characters, and scenes would pop into my mind when I was at my job or walking on the beach. I would rush home to write them down. When I was inspired, I wrote and wrote. But when the excitement faded, I avoided my desk, fearful of the practical aspects of writing a novel, the hard work of slogging through the difficult parts, learning how to make the parts fit together.

Being a writer is more than inspiration. There is re-writing, editing, polishing and research. The more I work, the more my Creative Self whispers in my ear. She seems to like constancy and commitment. She likes that I am keeping faith by practicing, learning, and preparing.

Commitment

Committing to a regular work schedule tells the universe you’re serious about your creative work. Make your schedule manageable. A one-hour session three times a week is plenty to start. Make it a habit and notice how it helps deal with any resistance you encounter. After you feel more confident about your commitment, you can re-visit your schedule.

Loosening the Chains

Measuring productivity can be helpful and motivating. When I (reluctantly) started counting the number of words I produced in each writing session, my productivity skyrocketed. I was amazed. Writing produced more writing. I learned to write faster without editing or second-guessing myself. The pages piled up. That method still works. First draft fast and furious. Second draft slower, third draft slower yet.

Some writers have rituals for how to begin their creative time. They light a candle or say a prayer to invoke the Muse. Some need to do the dishes before they can start, or walk the dog, or make coffee for the rest of the family. These are not time wasters, but preparatory steps.

Down time is not unproductive. Artists need time for their ideas to percolate. They spend time noticing how evenly the grass is growing and how the shadows of clouds move across a landscape. They notice the faint tracks where a snake slid down a sand dune, a lizard nearly invisible on a rock, how the elderly man next door waits every morning at his mailbox for the postman. Just out of sight, the wheels are turning, the juices flowing and moving, about to burst into consciousness.

As creatives, we set our own boundaries. We define our goals and how to reach them. We find our rhythm. We choose the time of day when we are most productive. We choose our priorities.

We respect inspiration but don’t wait around for it to show up. We commit and do our work, and when inspiration does tap us on the shoulder, it’s that much sweeter.

My next writing class, From Inspiration to Publication, starts on June 7, 4-6 PM. Live on Zoom. For anyone with an idea.

Posted on

Creative at Work–No Repair Needed!

To move forward in collaboration with your Creative Self, you may need to re-arrange some priorities. I sure did.

When I decided that finishing my novel was my top priority, I forged ahead, without gaining more confidence or even believing that my efforts would be successful.

The fear of not embodying my Creative Self—finishing my stories and putting them into the world–outweighed my fear of rejection. I was still scared, but with the encouragement of mentors, friends, and writing teachers, I kept my eye on the ball and moved forward anyway.

As I worked on the novel, I finished and polished the short stories languishing in my computer. I learned about the markets for the type of fiction I wrote. Turned out there were levels. I did not have to compete with the the top names in the field. Other options existed, and I went to work learning about them.

After the rush of excitement with my first publication, I was on a roll. Accepting rejection as part of the game, I developed a thicker skin. I also made a rule. Every time a piece was rejected by one magazine, I sent it out again within 24 hours. This required a list of potential markets, which I kept in a folder along with any comments I received from editors. I ignored the disdainful comments of my inner critic and sent out my work over and over until it was accepted.

After deleting from my programming the erroneous idea that I am my writing, I fortified my boundaries. Gained objectivity. Kept learning. Stayed focused on the task. Write. Edit. Revise. Learn. Submit. Repeat.

Eventually, the light dawned: I did not have to be perfect, happy, rich, younger or thinner to do my work.Even though still riddled with self-doubt,  I did the work. And so can you.

Take half an hour out of your day and start. If you wait until you have enough time, the inner critic will pile on more tasks.

Be willing to start with a simple project you can complete in one session. Write a short poem, a character sketch for a story, or a pencil drawing of the painting you see in your mind. Do it fast, without thinking, and show it to NO ONE. When you’re learning, you don’t need criticism. We don’t improve our craft by thinking about it but by doing. With practice, you’ll get better.

The impulse to create comes from an inner tension. Something wants to come forth. To be made real in the world of time.The real question is whether you love your potential creation enough to bring it into the world. If the answer is yes, then make a plan. How will you find the resources you need? The time? The place?

As you set and reach your own creative goals, you change yourself. You become more confident, more resilient, and more inner directed. You start to trust the intuitive hunches offered by your Creative Self.

You don’t have to fix yourself.

Start now. Don’t think. Just start.

NO WAITING

.

 

 

Posted on

Magical Words, Magical You!

Do you have a story to tell?

An idea rumbling around in your mind? A character you see so clearly s/he seems real? An imaginary place you long to create for your character to roam?

Maybe your story is true. An experience from your earlier life. A lesson learned. Inspiration gleaned from succeeding against all odds. The joys of family life or the difficulty of adjusting to loss and sorrow.

We all have stories. We tell them to entertain, inspire, teach, and remember. From one perspective, our lives are stories. Elaborate plots with us serving as both the star of the play and its director.

This is good news, for if we are the director of our own play, we get to change the script. We can try on new roles, change our career, or where we live. We can make new friends and learn new skills. We can let go of what limited us in the past and forge a trail where creativity matters more than the rules we‘ve lived by in the past.

The drive to communicate is basic to being human. Children develop a sense of themselves by the words their parents used to describe them. Young adults strive for identity with educational achievements, jobs, and relationships.

As we get older, the tendency to look back and make sense of our experiences comes into play. We want to tell about who we are, what decisions we made, how life unfolded, and what we learned. At midlife and beyond, many decide to change direction. Start a business, move to a farm and grow organic vegetables, write that book.

Even if no one reads your story, you gain tremendously from the writing. Learning about our younger selves leads to insight and compassion. How our ideas have changed teaches us about growth. Exploring how our personal myth developed over the years is exciting and satisfying.

As a writer, editor, and writing coach, I work with people exploring their creativity. Some are starting out, taking small, tentative steps with their Creative Self.

Others have decided to write a book, short story, or memoir. They need encouragement, resources, and information on how to write more effectively.

Others want help improving their first drafts, preparing for an agent, a publisher, or self-publishing.

We all long to be heard, and one of the greatest benefits of writing our stories—fictional or not—is that words are magic. With them, we create worlds. With them, we change our world. We discover patterns that remain elusive if we keep our ideas trapped in the realm of thought.

When we bring our words into the world, thoughts become real, imagination transmutes into artistic expression. That is the creative act that changes us. And the beautiful thing is we don’t need to write a best-seller, win awards, or find acclaim to reap the benefits of writing our story. All that’s required is to set it down and let the magic unfold.

It is my great honor to help writers tell their stories.

 

All content copyright © 2023 by Carol Holland March. All rights reserved.