Category: Journaling

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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.

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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

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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. 

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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!

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Do You See the Door?

It’s right there. Behind that tree. In the shadow of the curtain in the room where you sleep. In your dreams, glowing with golden light.

Since I learned to meditate, new information presents itself as a door to be opened. Or ignored. In the world of spirit, there is always choice.

I made my choice long ago, so I open every door that beckons. Sometimes after reflection. Sometimes with trepidation, for once opened, there is no going back.

Doors lead me forward—to repair a misunderstanding, to an old belief that needs releasing, or a different level of awareness. Some doors are an invitation to explore my relationship to the inner world from which all creativity springs. Behind others lurk the characters and worlds that populate my stories.

I needed to slow down my thoughts before I developed a habit of regularly producing creative work. That meant taking time to sit at my desk and tune into the frequency of my Creative Self. Some people can write a chapter of the novel on a commuter train or on their lunch hour. I applaud them. They must be very productive. But I need more space.

If you hear the call but can’t find the door, be patient. You may need to quiet your mind. Your body must partner with your mind and feelings for ideas and visions to be translated into words and brush strokes. This takes practice. Sit in silence. Spend time in nature. Watch the grass grow. Listen to the leaves of cottonwood trees chattering to each other. The inner world works on a slower time cycle than our ordinary outer world. Rhythms need to be respected. Telling it to hurry doesn’t work.

Some doors are shy but they want to be discovered. Yours may hide behind a cluster of ivy. Or on the far side of a sagging wooden fence. An image flashes on the edge of your vision, so beautiful you turn, heart lifting, but when you do, it’s gone. Maybe you turned too quickly. Maybe it melted back behind the veil.

If you see it in the heat of the day as you trudge through a desert, your mind might dismiss it as a mirage, but in your heart, you know it’s real. You know it’s waiting. For the time to be right. For you to be ready.

It knows you well. It knows you may need to gather courage before you walk toward it. You may need to stop the noise of the outer world before you notice its shape, its color. To see that it pulses with excitement at your approach.

But, you may say, not yet. I’m busy with work, family, and the pressing tasks of daily living. How can I open a door that leads to who knows where? What if it takes me to places I’m not ready for? What if I get lost? What if walking through it changes me?

Relax.

Stop and breathe.

You can turn away. The door understands. As you retreat, the rhythm of its pulsing may slow, but it will never stop. The door will never disappear and it will never fail to welcome you.

Even if you wait until you are old and tired and finally face the door because there’s nothing else left to do.

Even if you wait longer than that.

You know what to do.

You were born knowing. Rattle it gently. Give it a push. And when you see, with amazement and delight, what lies beyond, be still and listen for the voice that holds the treasure.

 

When Spirit Whispers

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Listen! Something is Stirring!

It wants your attention. It wants to be free. Have you heard it whisper?

You know what it is. It dances through your dreams. It causes you to be late because you’re mesmerized by a cloud formation that looks exactly like the city in a story you want to write. In a rare moment of silence, it says, Come, follow me, I have a story only you can tell. An image only you can paint.

It offers impractical ideas, suggesting you compose a poem or a symphony. A ludicrous idea. After all, you’re a busy person. Who has the time for frivolities? Ridiculous. But, is it?

The call of the Creative Self is real. It means that something inside you wants to be born into the world of time and the light of day.

The seeds of inspiration reside within us. Often just beneath the level of awareness. It takes a receptive attitude to invite those seeds into our lives so we can shape them by creative acts into a poem, a story, a drawing, a clay pot.

Children have unfettered access to the messages of their Creative Self. They draw on walls, paint on their toes, and sing at the top of their small lungs, simply for the joy of it.

As we grow, we learn what pleases our parents, teachers, and friends. We want to fit in, to be loved and praised, so we learn to follow the rules. We don’t fingerpaint when we’re supposed to be studying. We don’t eat dessert before the meal. We don’t spend nearly as much time watching clouds drift by.

Even though we learn to ignore its subversive messages, the Creative Self does not disappear. It is always waiting.

When it makes itself known, it can burst out like thunder, impossible to ignore. Or it may whisper, faintly, its voice only discernible in the vague moments between sleep and waking. Don’t be fooled by volume. The faint voice may have more to say.

Humans create biologically. We also create the conditions of our lives, with our choices, our willingness to learn, observe, and investigate what lies beyond our immediate surroundings.

  • Every explorer wonders what waits beyond the horizon.
  • Every athlete imagines the heights of skill she can achieve.
  • Every artist practices her art to faithfully reproduce the images of the imagination.

People who perform at the highest levels of their sport, art, craft, or profession have an inner drive urging them on. They might call it inspiration or ambition. The words don’t matter. The vision that urges us to keep us moving forward comes from the Creative Self.

You can do it, the Creative Self notes, because it knows you can.

No matter how loud or soft, how often it comes, or how clear its message, the voice of the Creative Self is what you are waiting for.

“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”

                                                                                                                 Rumi

 

 

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Winners and More Winners

My new book, When Spirit Whispers: a journey of awakening, is a winner in the 2022 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards! I am excited and gratified to be honored by this excellent organization.

The book was a labor of love, my small offering of aid and inspiration to those traveling the path of personal discovery. Writing and publishing it was a lot of work and the award got me thinking about what being a winner means.

Awards and recognition are great, of course, but not the whole story. I haven’t entered many contests, partly because the submission fees can be considerable and the wait times long. I decided to go straight for publication and focused on getting short stories published while I was finishing my first novel.

After struggling to learn how to write publishable work, my first published short story was a huge win! My work was in print! And accompanied by beautiful art! It encouraged me to learn more about the market and how to hone my stories so they would be interesting to editors and publishers.

In the last twelve years, I have published many short stories, personal essays, and three novels. I also self-published a collection of short stories, The Way Home, several short pieces of fiction, and now, two nonfiction books, When Spirit Whispers and the When Spirit Whispers Workbook.

I appreciate being recognized by industry professionals, but even with the fancy sticker I get to paste on my book, it’s the reaction of my readers that warms my heart. When readers tell me how they react to my book, some finding validation and inspiration in its pages, all the struggle to write and publish is worthwhile.

So what is a win?

Awards, yes, of course. And getting your words in print, yes, is fun and validating.

But, wins take many forms, like:

  • Finishing a book/story/screenplay/poem
  • Expressing yourself in writing, art, dance, song
  • Enjoying a career you love
  • Creating a loving family
  • Surviving difficult life events
  • Surviving loss in any form
  • Getting through and adjusting to any difficult medical diagnosis
  • Healing old trauma
  • Thriving anew from the lessons of trauma
  • Finding the friends, healers, and playmates who see us for who we are
  • Speaking our truth
  • Allowing love to guide us, even when the world is careening off its axis
  • Learning to forgive
  • Finding joy in work, play, nature, animals, and all the wonderful people who are standing in the light of love

How do you feel about winning? What gives you pleasure? What is joyful? What are you proud of?

If you can name even one thing, then you’re already a winner.

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A Different Kind of Memoir

New Mexico author Jean Stouffer has written a moving memoir of healing from the effects of growing up with an alcoholic mother.

But Sometimes I Cry is not just another recounting of a child caring for an absent parent and the self-esteem and abandonment issues that ensue. This memoir uses personal history, myth, and poetry to convey her journey from a traditional wife and mother who could not express herself to a woman who speaks her truth and accepts how she feels.

She tells her story in short chapters organized into five sections as she works with a therapist to unblock her emotions and uncover her true self.

Most sections are told in the third person, from the point of view of many charming fictional creatures—mouse, cloud, stone, owl, baby bird, beaver—who stand in for the author. Only the sections about her beloved dog, Molly, are conveyed in the first person. They are among the most moving accounts in the book.

She also gives the reader short progress reports in the third person, which tie together the fictional and poetic chapters.

When I asked about that choice, Jean said that writing in the first person was too painful. Her fictional characters conveyed her meaning and gave her the distance she needed to write about her experiences and process.

Jean did not publish this book for thirty years. Jean said she wrote it for herself, to process what she was feeling, and, at the time, never considered publication. Years later, a friend read the manuscript and encouraged her to put her story into the world. Sometimes I Cry came out in 2021.

“Writing the book changed me,” Jean said recently during a phone conversation. “It improved my relationship with my husband and helped me realize I had value beyond my traditional roles. After that, I became a hypnotherapist and got a lot of satisfaction using my skills to help people through difficult times. Going through the healing process and writing about it helped me understand that it is okay to have emotions, to be an independent person with my own feelings and goals.”

I asked Jean what she hoped readers would get from her book.

“Hope,” she answered. “Maybe my story can encourage others. Facing the darkness isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. I ended up a much happier person. A stronger person who could offer my gifts without losing myself.”

You can purchase Sometimes I Cry in paperback and e-book formats at Amazon.

You can reach Jean at www.JeanStouffer.com

 

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Finding Your North Star


Have you ever felt stuck? At a stalemate? Not sure where to go next or what to do?

Trauma, illness, unexpected life transitions of all types can leave us at loose ends, not sure how to pick up the pieces. Maybe even wondering if we want to. Transition, especially the involuntary type, calls into question who we are, how we relate, what roles we want to resume or release.

After life changing events, we often need to change priorities, evaluate time and resources, develop or re-gain the crucial balance that promotes clear thinking and productive effort. On some level, we know that. The problem is, how to do it?

The uncomfortable emotional states of transition don’t help. Some people get depressed. Others feel anxiety about the future. Old habits thought long conquered may re-assert themselves. Unfinished creative work may look stale and not worth completing. New ideas fail to materialize.

Sometimes what is nearest our hearts is the most difficult to acknowledge. After all, what if it isn’t possible? What if we can’t find meaningful work, a loving relationship? What if we try and fail to write the novel or poem or song?

As a transition coach, I’ve met people who spent years denying what they most wanted to do, be, or have in the interest of security, loyalty, or the need to stay compliant with family or community values. Without exception, when they made the leap of faith and started singing their own song, miracles happened. Not everyone was “successful” in the financial sense, but all experienced an upsurge in energy, in personal well-being, and self-confidence. Taking the leap is hard, but so worthwhile.

I’m no exception, and am quite capable of staying stuck while terribly busy doing things that are not quite right. I rationalize, explain how I need income, security, something to do that’s not too hard because I’m sick, upset, or lacking in confidence. All the while, the voice in my heart reminds me to look inward, to walk the inner path where wisdom lies, often buried beneath heaps of excuses.

When I’m stuck on a project or need to get myself out of a difficult place, I remember the North Star, the brightest star in the sky that always points to the same place. The Center. The place within us that is most authentic.

The North Star is the meaning and direction of my life. Although I’ve always known I’m a writer, how to express it has evolved. No matter if I worked in corporate communications, free-lance editing, fiction or nonfiction, the needle always pointed true. The North Star gives life a focus.

When I’m stuck for an answer, I pick up my pen and start writing. Write long enough, regularly enough, and you’ll find what everyone who uses this practice discovers. The creative self within. The Muse waiting patiently to offer her gentle guidance. The wisdom of the heart. The well, the watcher, spirit, the inner guide.

Journaling for insight and self-discovery is a tool for everyone, not just writers. It stops the mental circling that is never productive. Putting thoughts into words helps us understand them and come up with new solutions. It helps us work out how we feel about things. Pursued regularly, it leads us unerringly toward our own center, whatever form that takes.

Try journaling for a week or two, at the same time every day, for about twenty minutes, and you’ll begin to see the benefits. Keep going and you won’t be able to shut out the light of your personal North Star.

 

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What’s In Your Closet?

An irresistible urge to clean out a closet came up the other day. I attacked it with gusto and deposited in a cardboard box shoes I’ll never wear again, clothes that don’t fit, worn out bags, random books, and a lamp I hate.

After finishing, I realized I had been looking for something. Not that elusive black shoe to match the one in the box. Something more important. I was looking for my point of power. The place of stillness. The present moment.

I’ve often been stymied by resistance, which is a great catch-all for negative ideas and beliefs—the programming that lives in what some call the subconscious mind. It’s taken years to understand that what stops me from 1) starting and  2) finishing projects is hiding inside me.

Every spiritual teacher I’ve encountered, in person or books, emphasized the importance of the Now. In the sixties and seventies, as meditation and eastern philosophies integrated into western culture, it became an often-spoofed catch word. Be Here Now! Allen Watts exhorted us.

The truth is, he was right.

The only way to create anything new is from the present. If we try to create from old patterns and memories, we end up re-creating old situations, even if dressed up in new clothes.

If you prefer dwelling on the past, you may identify yourself with childhood experiences, past wounds, slights, or resentments. Hold beliefs about how limited you are, how it’s too late (or too early) for what you want. Think you need more security, money, or free time before you create. You tell stories of what happened.

If you’re oriented to the future, you’re always planning. You have goals, vision, motivational tools, a to-do list. You’re so focused on what you will do that you don’t notice what is happening now. You tell stories of how great things will be.

If we don’t question where our ideas come from and if they are still true, we risk repeating patterns we don’t understand. A stuck pattern is a lens of perception.

If you feel at the mercy of time, other people, or your responsibilities, and can’t seem to start that novel, exercise program, or job hunt, maybe it’s time to look inside. The inner way is not often valued by the outer world, but it’s essential if you want to know yourself.

Here are some simple ways to start:

State a clear intention.

  • Decide what you want.
  • Write it down.
  • Don’t share what you’re doing with anyone. Make this a private space, just you and the contents of your mind.

Spend fifteen minutes a day alone.

  • Sit quietly with yourself. In nature. In your favorite chair.
  • Close your eyes.
  • Breathe, and notice what thoughts come up.
  • Listen to the voice within, even if it sounds like your dad.

Get a notebook

  • Commit to three sessions a week, twenty minutes each.
  • Write what’s going on in your life and how you feel about it.

A practical way of clearing the mental residue is to look around at your living space to decide what you don’t need. Cleaning out closets, bookcases, attics, and garages is a physical correlate to cleaning out old ideas. It’s satisfying to cart away physical objects. Plus, it gives your resistance a heads-up that you mean business!

And who knows, you may find your point of power hiding behind that old tennis racket!

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