Challenges

In response to Claudette’s Writing Challenge # 1  “the Power of Creativity”

Was very surprised when I went to check out the Writer’s Island prompt for today. The site has been closed and there will be no more weekly prompts. Was disappointed, to say the least. But then, being who I am and wanting to encourage others to write, I made a decision to create my own challenges.

I had another site, which was going by the wayside. Hadn’t been using it or posting to it at all. So I deleted everything from it and set up a writing challenge for anyone who is interested. Being a former writing instructor, I do have a lot of those at hand. I plan to post a writing challenge every Friday morning. You can find it at:

http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

I will also probably respond to my own challenges. That’s what I did in my classroom and I might as well continue. And there is no better time to start than right now.

The Power of Creativity is a rather large subject matter, but I believe that each individual has creative power built into the original design. It is the energy that creates growth and healing. It includes inspiration, mental and physical skills and abilities, and is not limited by narrowed definitions.

The first class I taught was titled Connecting With Your Creativity. I was incredibly nervous because it was happening on the campus of the four year University from which I had graduated in years past. When the Director of the program introduced me as the Instructor, I almost couldn’t speak. But, I did eventually. One of the first exercises I had my students do was to write out very quickly, a brief paragraph of how they saw creativity at work in their own lives. Then went around the room and asked them to read what they had written.

It was a small group and everyone responded, until I got to the last woman there. She read what she had written and it became the first direct challenge I was to encounter as a new teacher. She had written about how she didn’t have a creative bone in her body. After trying for years, several different disciplines such as writing, painting, and music, she had given up and thrown in the towel. She simply wasn’t a creative human being.

My first thought, and I definitely didn’t voice it, was why would you take a class about connecting with your creativity if you truly believed you had none? Instead, I asked her to define what she meant by creativity. She immediately said, “The Big A, Art. You know, music, painting, drawing, all of those things.” The room was terribly silent, I wasn’t the only one aware that I was being challenged.

So I asked her if she thought that making a delicious home cooked meal that was nurturing as well as attractive was a creative skill. She said yes, of course it was. Then I asked her if a father who put his children to bed each night by telling them made up stories that included characters with each of his children’s names was engaging in creative energy. She nodded emphatically. And all of a sudden the room came alive.

Each person there had another example to add to the list. People they knew at work, or casually, neighbors and friends, who did very creative things that didn’t fit under her Big A umbrella. The two of us were grinning at each other by the time that little, but really important discussion ended and I could go on with the class I had planned out so carefully.

In the course of the next six weeks, that woman became one of the most enthusiastic students I have ever had. She eagerly participated in every exercise I presented, both writing, and other activities. At the end of the six week period, she came to class with a petition she had written up and planned to pass around to the other members in the classroom. It was addressed to the Director of the Program, asking that I be allowed to teach a second class on the same subject matter. The Director agreed, and I became a free-lance writing instructor, specializing in writing based classes for self-awareness and personal growth.

The power of creativity is that it is an energy that can be felt and experienced on all kinds of levels. It calls for a response. It initiates action, it gets us moving and thinking. And it is a healing energy for all of those reasons. To give it some sort of elite definition, is to miss its real importance altogether. For some of us, the mere fact of getting up and getting dressed is a creative activity. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has had that particular experience of enticing myself out of a prone position.

I did it this morning, as a matter of fact. When I realized that there would be no writing prompt this week, or any of the weeks to follow, I was very tempted to go back to bed and just forget it. Instead, I am here responding to my own challenge, writing about my own experience and connecting once again with my own unique creative power. Can, or will you do the same?

A Crow and His Shadow

 

We all have a shadow. I am not speaking about the physical reality that occurs when we stand in any particular light. I am speaking about the shadow aspects of the human psyche. It is often defined as the dark side of human nature. Most often, that is considered to be hidden, secret, and not allowed out into the light of day. And to some extent, that might be a wise choice.

However, to completely shun that darker aspect that lives within each of us, can also cause a great deal of damage. We, in the Western Hemisphere, have a tendency to deal in a dualistic mindset, meaning we most often view things in an either or juxtaposition. Things are black or white, right or wrong, happy or sad, with little in between. No gray areas to mess up that wonderful defining line between the black and white of any matter. But walking that definitive line constantly is incredibly difficult because there are so very many shades of gray between those two points of diversion.

The major advantage to that Dualistic Mindset, is that in any given situation, one should be able to see immediately the right or wrong of a thing. But, we all know that there are layers of gray matter that can interfere with that process. Some of them are what if’s, many of them are the personal circumstances of the viewer, while others are just plain confusion over the exact demarcation line. I might be seeing a bit of grayish white in the situation, while the individual standing next to me might actually be saying, “Charcoal gray.”

The matter of which is which is personal choice, and that is always made through the filter of ones world view. That in turn, goes back to our childhood and what we were taught, and how much we have allowed ourselves to grow since that time period. It speaks directly to what we define as our comfort zone. Each of us allows a certain amount of gray into that zone. We learn to tolerate some levels simply because it is easier, more comfortable that way.

But my comfort zone is different from yours, as yours is different from mine. Which means that what appears as deep charcoal gray to you, may very well appear as no more than a dash of light gray in my personal spectrum. And the most amazing part of that, is that we may each be able to support those views realistically, logically,  and with some amount of passion in the doing. At the very least, it makes for interesting dialogue and debate.

But, back to those shadows. The ones that dwell within us. Most of us are uncomfortable with the idea that there might be something hidden in the interior of our psyche. How can you trust what you can’t see or might not know about? The world abounds with legends and myths about just such a reality. I’m thinking of one I heard years ago. It is Native American in origin, and I apologize because I do not know the particular tribe to which it might be attached, so what you are getting is my paraphrase of said story. However, the story itself is a good example of how some of us deal with even the idea of a shadow aspect within our own person.

It is said that the crow was not always black. That in fact, when first created, his plumage was a wonderful rainbow of colors, unlike that of any other winged creature. He was exceptionally beautiful, and he knew that and took a great deal of pride in that reality. But, it disturbed him that when he went walking in the sunlight to show off his brilliant colors, he was always followed by his shadow.

It was so distressing to him, to have to share that spotlight, that he would only come out when the sun was at its zenith. Which meant that his time of showing the world his singular beauty was quite limited. He became angry and resentful. So much so, that he began to peck at his shadow, trying to get it to go away, to disappear as he pecked pecked his way, whenever he moved or went anywhere.

In turn, his shadow became quite agitated at this relentless pecking, day after day, moment after moment, and all because it was what it was and was simply serving its purpose. Things didn’t go well between the two and one day, with one more peck, the shadow rose up and swallowed that prideful crow completely.

And that is how the crow came to be black all over. However, one can still see some faint aspects of that former brilliant plumage when he walks in the sunlight, and when the sun is just right, one can catch very brief glimpses of all those other colors of the rainbow as they sparkle through the blackness.

If we are not careful, we too can become like the crow. Prideful of our ability to see and be the ‘light’ in our world. We do all have those gray areas within us, those sometimes hidden and secretive aspects that we would like kept in the darkness. Or because we fear that those hidden things would spoil our ‘image’, we might, just like the crow, peck away at them, wasting time and energy trying to keep them hidden from view, which could so limit us, that we are no longer able to move about with any amount of freedom.

Again that choice is personal. We can choose to get to know those aspects, or keep them hidden throughout our lifetimes. Or some level in between those two. Personally, I choose to get to know them as much as possible, even making friends with some. I do that on my journal pages, which keeps it all private and allows me to make far better choices in the rest of my life.

And the most important aspect in all of that, is that I have come to know some of the Wild Things that dwell in those shadows. Things that have made my life happier, freer, and far more interesting than I could have ever imagined. Far deeper in meaning, and filled with a creative energy that never fails to astound me, but also brings satisfying comfort and healing to a soul that yearns for just that.

Who knows, I may be a crow at the bottom of all this writing. Did you know that most cultures believe the crow to be one of the most clever of the entire species of feathered creatures? That might be something worth aiming at.

Using Time, Music, and Color

 

Got the lonelies last night. They crept in from the shadows and I think, planned to take up permanent residence. I chased them away with colors and music. Funny thing is, the colors and the music may have been the very things that allowed them to separate themselves from the shadows to begin with. Actually allowed them to take on their distinctive definition long enough to be recognized and therefore dealt with.

I am expecting company later today, so between cleaning up and straightening out, I was periodically experimenting with a new design and wanted to do it in black and white with different shades of gray. How’s that for pulling out the shadows? That isn’t what I was aiming at, but down deep, I truly believe that all things are connected.

Had gone shopping with my sister and picked up a new set of cheap pastel pens that I wanted to play with. But also found a pen with white ink and purchased that as well. Came home and settled in to do the design, only to find that the white wasn’t really white, but a subtle shade of very light grayish beige. Was disappointed but decided to just leave the white paper shine through instead. And it worked.

Meanwhile, I have slowly been creating a second play list of music. Taking my time, choosing songs on memory and whim. Added a few more and then decided to listen to it while I was finishing up that very intricate design. That’s when the lonelies hit, and hit hard. I let them. Decided not to fight with the emotions, just let them rise and do their thing.

Granted, it got a bit difficult to keep the colors between the lines when they were being blurred by tears. No horrible sobbing, just soft quiet acknowledgment that things have changed, and are no longer the way they used to be. The music brought up memories of years past, and I let them rise and play themselves out right along with the feelings.

Finished the black and white design, ate some dinner, and then reached for a different book of designs and possibilities. These designs are far less intricate and would allow me to play with those new pastels I had purchased. It went very quickly. There was little hesitation on my part, the colors seemed to know exactly where they were going and felt as though they were leaping into my hands to do their thing without a whole lot of thought or decision making.

That, by the way, is a wonderful experience, akin to picking up a pen and writing an entire poem in ten or fifteen minutes. One that doesn’t need much rewriting, but stands alone almost as if born full-grown. And meanwhile, the songs kept playing in the background. All 75 of them.

It is as diverse and eclectic as that first play list I mentioned months ago (see Roll On 18 Wheeler, from 9/13/08). The Beatles, John Denver, Carly Simon with James Taylor, more of the Doobie Brothers, and even a bit of R.E.M., as well as Barbra Striesand, Don McLean, the Mamas and the Papas, The Fifth Dimension, and Gordon Lightfoot, Don Williams, Bryan Adams,  and more. Am planning on some Willie Nelson and maybe even a bit of Johnny Cash.

As I listened, I laid down colors: purple, blue, green with a central spectrum that also included yellow, orange, red, and my new brick white. Yes, the music brought up various memories, but the colors brought up other things. Each color is a symbol. Purple speaks to personal power, blue to wisdom and knowledge, and green to growth. And it is those very things that resolved the issue of loneliness I had been drifting and floating though and within.

No life, including my own, is simply black and white with shades of gray. Just as music can alter ones present mood and the track of ones memories, colors can alter ones perspective as well. Yes, I live alone, but alone does not have to mean lonely. I have the ability, the personal power to change that reality. I do have company coming today. One an old and dear friend, another someone new and needing to be met and interacted with. Therein, lie possibilities for growth and the knowledge that both feeds that growth and nurtures even more.

I didn’t quite finish the new picture. I simply got tired and heard the play
list start over again. But, I did go to bed satisfied with my experience and a much brighter outlook for today. Loneliness is a reality that enters each of our lives. We can choose to color it black and white with shades of gray, or deal with it using our own personal power and the knowledge we have gained by living each colored moment of our lives.

Fighting our feelings, struggling against them, only seems to lodge them even deeper into our psyches. Letting them flow like music and color allows them their much needed expression, but also allows us to resolve the issues to which they speak. And that, I believe, is a good use of time, music, and color.

New Responsibilities, New Freedoms

Writer’s Island prompt #16 Brand New Day

Have a friend who is a receptionist for a well-known Law office. As such, she is the first impression new clients meet when they arrive. She told me of an experience she had the day after the Inauguration. A new client, a young black man, came in with his friend. In the course of getting his information and getting him settled, they began to discuss our new President and his speech upon entering office.

The young man, she guessed him to be no more than twenty, was excited and felt personally challenged by Mr. Obama’s talk about how we each must take on the responsibilities for the changes that will be coming. My friend, who is 65 and of Danish descent, not only agreed but found herself involved in a rather profound conversation about what that could mean to each of them on a personal level.

She was awestruck by the reality of the conversation, that it was taking place at all. They were both crossing previously silent boundaries. And not just those of color, but age and gender as well. Finding a common ground in the words of a man neither of them had ever met personally, yet moved by what he had said, and the manner in which he said it.

She and I talked about it at length. Our discussion seemed to revolve around the idea of responsibilities toward ourselves and the world around us. For years, I have been saying, and believing that any freedom entails responsibility, never really hooking into the opposite reality: that each responsibility must also entail new freedoms.

Yet, there is no denying that my friend and this young man walked through the threshold of a new freedom on both their parts. And they both did it with a great deal of profound depth, consciously aware that they were doing so, and that it felt natural and good to take part in a conversation that might not have taken place even a month ago.

No more than a few weeks ago, another friend, a young black woman, wrote about how older white women clutch their purses when they encounter young black males on the street. And even though I, myself, am an older white woman, I knew what she was speaking of and found it a sad reality of the world in which I live.

Yet now, today, I have concrete proof that it doesn’t have to be that way. That things can, and do change,  and that today is a brand new day, filled with incredible possibilities, and countless new freedoms. Freedoms that will occur if we as individuals take on the responsibilities entailed in that newness, commit ourselves to seeing that this opporunity not be wasted.

I am not saying that we must all rush out and talk to the first young black male we might encounter, or leave our cautions in the closet when we leave home. I am however, suggesting that we take a really good look at the basis of those cautions, even look for an opportunity to let go of the tight reins we have kept for countless reasons. Some of those reasons are no more than preconceived notions, not based in fact or even experience.

In doing that, we take on the responsibility for our own actions and choices. And ultimately may even gift ourselves with new freedoms. I know of at least two people who have done so, could you be one more?

Sit, Walk, Run, and Fly

 

I had a very busy day yesterday. Was out and about for the majority of it, which is quite unusual for this quasi-hermit. Started out with an unexpected chat with the friend I spoke of in my last post. She was watching the inaugral hoopla and giving me blow by blows of all the television images she was watching. Of course, we made comments.

Then it was a doctor’s appointment with a very pleased, smiling, and congratulatory physician who seemed utterly grateful to have a patient who actually listened and did what was suggested. She kept patting my arm or shoulder and telling me how proud she was of what I had accomplished. It was quite nice to know that I had made her day with all test results in the “good” zone, a hefty weight loss, and everything under control.

Next was a spontaneous lunch with my younger sister who was delivering a chair from my Mother. We went to an old stand-by place from our teenage years and found our brother sitting at the counter having lunch by himself.  He lives in a small town about 45 miles from the city we both inhabit. We laughed and chatted for an hour. Then back here to bring in the chair and more quiet visiting.

After she left, I took a well-needed nap, only to be awakened by a phone call from my nephew who was on his way over to get me so that we could go shopping for a television converter box. We only had to go to three places before we were able to purchase the necessary object. We came back here and caught up on one another’s recent activities. He gave me a great idea for showcasing some of the images I’ve been working on.

Finally got back to my computer after a very busy day in which it felt like I’d been moving constantly, at one pace or another. Immediately found an email from my other sister with a link enclosed. Brief message, and just the link. I started to watch and was inturrupted by a phone call, and then another. Never got back to the link.

Throughout the day, I had only been able to catch glimpses of our new President and all the celebrations in his honor. Also heard and participated in several conversations about just that and all the hopes and fears related to our present situation. It was as if you could hear and see people taking in a big breath, one filled with hope, but also the knowledge that there would be many adjustments to be made in the coming months and years. A breath taken in preparation for whatever action might be called for in the coming days.

Never did get back to the link. Got caught up in my own little world of words and color and then went to bed. Wrote a more detailed account of all of this in my journal this morning, then remembered the link and went there to finally watch and listen. My sister had only written one short note in the email and that was that she thought this was appropriate for this day’s doings. She was right about that in so many ways. The link is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-0NvkuPHZI

First we must sit up, before we can stand and walk. Once we learn how to walk, we can then run. Can we fly? Yes, we can. But only if we believe, see ourselves doing that, can we do so. It is a learning process, done one step at a time, just as the song in the video describes. One we have all participated in during our lifetimes.

As though the Universe wanted to make sure I understood that clearly, my day was filled with just that process. Sitting at the computer, walking into the doctor’s office, the restaurant, the three different stores. Running around (not as fast as formerly, I assure you), and emotionally flying after the doctor’s visit and the surprise of running into my brother and the chance to laugh and talk with him.

Flying, as the video suggests, needs both trust and support. It is possible, but one must trust that there will be arms outstretched to catch you on the way down. None of my day could possibly have taken place without those two ingredients. Trust that others would follow through as promised so I could get where I needed to be going, and the support of others both expected and not. Trust on their part that I would likewise follow through and also give them the needed support they desired or not, but got anyway.

We have a new President. He, and we, have an opportunity to learn how to fly. Are you taking that deep breath of preparation? Are you ready?

Yah, Let’s Do It

 

Was chatting with a friend on Instant Messenger yesterday. In the course of the conversation, she dropped a comment that included a memory we shared from years ago. So we began to throw one liners at each other about our years of shared experiences. All of them included laughter, the result of the things we did back then and got ourselves into and out of. When I finally remarked that she was a part of the best memories I own, she agreed and said that it was like following your heart, but with a best friend along who would always say, “Yah, let’s do it.”

We ended our conversation by making plans to revisit some of those experiences in warmer weather. Many of them centered around road trips, camping, and fishing. We even discussed the adjustments we would have to make to accommodate the effects of the years that have passed since we did those things. Road trips and fishing won’t be too difficult, but sleeping in a tent would definitely put a strain on arthritic joints and a deteriorating back condition. But I am hopeful that together we will figure out the logistics and find a way to do what we both long to do.

It all reminded me of a little saying I have seen here on the internet. It’s a sticker you can send to another individual and it says, “When you are in jail, a good friend will come and bail you out. A best friend will be sitting next to you and saying, ‘That was fun, so what’s next?’ “ Well, at least the gist is the same.

It’s not that either one of us want to go back and be the people we were all those years ago. We want to have that feeling, especially the laughter that was so much a part of our shared adventures. The laughter that comes so easily even now, separated by distance and years of silence. It might be a lot of wishful thinking, no more than a dream, but in that dream we are standing next to one another and both saying, “Yah, let’s do it.” That’s a commitment.

Another friend recently put a quote by Goethe in a comment she left after a piece I had written on Soul’s Music. This is the quote:

The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves as well. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen accidents, meetings and material assistance that no one could have dreamed would come their way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.

Personally, I would define that as synchronicity, one of my favorite subjects. And it does apply here. Boldness, power and magic, three hefty little words, subtitles to that one word: Commitment. And all three of them were present and active during those long ago memories we made. They have been present throughout the complex history of our relationship. It might be that that is the very substance each one of us is seeking with our thoughts of warmer weather, the substance of synchronicity. All it takes is a commitment. Simple, right?

Commitment means so many things, yet only one thing. Committment means change. Raising your hand when all others are neatly folded on flat surfaces. Speaking into a lull in the conversation. Stepping through a doorway, where one has been standing, hesitating, perhaps for years. All of those things are commitments that will change whatever the background image entails.

Following your heart would be so much easier if your head didn’t stack up logistics that feel like mountains that rise higher and higher into infinity. And each mountain wreathed in the clouds of self-doubt that accompany such longings. It would be so much easier if you had a friend with you, someone to nudge you, whisper in your ear, “Yah, let’s do it.”

Someone to move through those changes with you. Share the ups and downs of whatever comes, offering a smile of encouragement when needed, or a pat on the back when things go well. Or a bit of dark humor that erupts into raucous laughter that lightens all that it touches.

Which brings me full circle and back to the beginnings of this blog. I have a friend who wants to go on a road trip, fishing, maybe even camping (can you hear the doubts on that one?). And I am committed to doing that. I have another friend who reminds me of synchronicity and how it works to encourage following through on that commitment. But best of all, I have a third friend that will listen while I work my way through all those doubts, concerns, what-ifs, the actual planning, and more. A friend who happens to hold a Get Out of Jail Free card. Will lean in and whisper, “Let’s do it.” That friend waits patiently as always, on the empty pages of my journal.

Repercussions and Counting The Cost

Writer’s Island prompt #15 “IF I COULD CHANGE ONE THING”.

What would that be? Nothing. That’s right, I wouldn’t change anything at all. It’s not because I’m afraid of changes, or incapable of them, or don’t occasionally wish things were different, or that change occurred at a more rapid pace, it’s that there would be repercussions that I couldn’t see or even begin to estimate, and some of those would not be on the positive side of the slate.

Changes always bring some form of loss. Always. Loss means grief and we all have enough of that to deal with already. We may not be consciously aware of it, but the majority of us are dealing with some aspect of loss and grief on a fairly consistent basis. Life is always changing, evolving, revolving, and so are we. And with each change, we experience loss of one sort or another because that is what change is all about, letting go of one thing to make room for another.

There are those who love change, seek it out, even chase after it. But, one has to wonder how much they lose in that process of constant change, and what happens when it all catches up to them. There is always that need for balance. Which means, there are also those who can’t, won’t change because of fear and the weight of incalculable things to be considered should change ever take place. And again, there is that issue of loss that happens whether an individual chases after change, or absolutely refuses to embrace it on any level. I have known both and neither are happy or content.

One is far too busy looking for something new to try, while the other is constantly complaining that things never remain the same for any length of time. Both are exhausting and neither is satisfied, therefore both can and do give off an energy that is far from comfortable.

That is not to say that change is good or bad. It can be both, but isn’t. It simply is. And the rate at which we accept that reality fluctuates throughout our existence. Children are born curious, with a need to explore, and a strong desire for new experiences. But eventually they do grow and become idealistic, meaning they see themselves as the original authors of change and the change must occur now.

The idealism is slowly dropped as the individual gets involved in the working through of daily existence and energies are spent just staying alive and somewhat even keeled, if that is possible. Then comes middle-age and a shift toward the inner aspect of life, and for many, that means a lot of personal changes, difficult decisions and choices.

The next stage, that of old age, is another change or shift in perspective. Here the task seems to be acceptance of change as a constant and a desire to leave some sort of legacy to the next generation. When you stop and think about all of that, it’s an incredible amount of change for one individual to deal with in one short life-span.

But that still leaves one major change to deal with. The acceptance of death and the reality that it will occur. Wow, that is a major bummer, certainly the biggest change of all. And it certainly entails that loss and grief I spoke of earlier. And may even account for all those other necessary changes we have encountered. Maybe life itself, is no more than a rehearsal for that ultimate change defined as death. Maybe we need all those changes in order to accept that we are finite creatures and will, someday, no longer be here to change, or be changed.

I can hear the words of that Stevie Nicks song running through my head: I’ve been afraid of changes, cause I built my life around… And right alongside of it is that reality that a butterfly flitting its wings can cause a major disaster on the other side of the globe. Changes always have repercussions. Always.

So where does that leave me? With the reality that change is a major undertaking, and not one to be engaged in lightly. Change is a necessity, it is a big part of life and especially of any growth that takes place in that life. I have said before that I have lived many lives during this one I have been given. That remains true and at the moment, I am finding, discovering, and creating yet another one. I am not afraid of changes, though I do duck on occasion when I see them coming and know they are inevitable. But I don’t fight them.

I used to, and that’s a waste of energy. Energy I need to be able to accept the changes that are occurring, and find my own particular path through them. And that I will do. But, no, I do not wish to be the author of those changes other than for myself. I will also lend my energies toward changes that I see can be beneficial. But to instigate them for anyone else, no. I never want to be that butterfly flitting its wings as it flutters near a flower, bringing a disaster to any part of my world, here, there, or anywhere.

Accepting the constant changes in life, is a personal choice. It is also a freedom. One that entails responsibility as freedom always does. There is an old religious saying about counting the cost before activating a change. I used to think that meant that I must count the cost to my own person. Now, I know that it reaches beyond me and into the rest of the world. All changes have ripple affects no matter how large or small. Those ripples are the repercussions of change. Which simply means, choose change carefully, think it through, and for me, that means on the page.

Waiting On The Page

 

It’s one of those days. Usually I come here via my journal, and by the time I arrive I have some thought or issue bouncing around inside my head so that when I get to this blank page, I have a general idea of what direction to take and just begin. The rest unfolds, many times surprising me more than anyone else. But, today I seem to be the blank page itself. Disconnected thoughts float through and I let them. Nothing concrete, just clouds moving through the landscape, but leaving no residue to hang onto.

I could leave and go do something else, but if I do that, I might never come back, and that thought frightens me. There is nothing that holds me here, nothing that forces me to stay, other than this blank page that needs filling. It is my choice to attempt to do that, and although I am more than willing, I still can’t come up with a subject that will interest me, let alone anyone else.

Even that statement isn’t quite true. There is something I do wish to write about, but when I try to focus in on it, the words simply disappear and the thoughts seem to run for cover, and everything goes blank like this page of paper. A blank piece of paper can be so intimidating. It’s innocent of any wrong doing, and yet seems to have pointing fingers, chiding remarks that rise silently, fast becoming a dark cloud that simply hovers waiting to drop a storm that never really comes to fruition.

On the flip side, a blank sheet of paper is an open invitation, whispering of untold fulfillment to be had with simple action. It’s a promise waiting to be filled, a journey, a path yet to be discovered, a story never told awaiting its own unfolding. The only thing involved is a bit of risk, a chance taken that might, or might not, go somewhere. Might lead anywhere. And that anywhere is what stops the action necessary to proceed.

Anywhere means without specific destination. What if I end up in the one place I don’t want to be? What if it takes me to one of those dark corners where the shadows move for no reason, and one just barely catches the sound of something that might be breathing? Shudder at the thought. Maybe I should run now, think later.

But anywhere could also be a bright space of sunshine and laughter. If I run, I would miss all of that. The moment would be lost, possibly never to come again. And that would be just plain sad. It might hold a lesson I have been seeking to learn for years, and my fears would cheat me of that opportunity. That would leave me ignorant, blank, once again, just like this sheet of paper. What exactly is this sheet of paper trying to tell me?

Dear Writer,

you come to me filled with ideas, and I wait to accept any and all you wish to say, think, feel. I see your hesitation and can only greet it with hope. I will never be fulfilled unless you begin. I hold only this one purpose, but I need you to act before that purpose can be satisfied. I long to carry your burdens, share them with you, for that would give me shape, form, and dimension. But, unless, or until you act, I possess none of those things. I am simply empty, so I mutely stare back at you and plead for your mercy.

Yes, I am a beggar, without pride or even distinct purpose. I long to be filled, given a reason for existing. Not only am I strong enough to hold and carry your burdens, but I can and will encompass all of your joys as well. Help you celebrate even the smallest of these, and do that gladly and with deep gratitude. I can help you in so many ways, to remember specific days, moments, and experiences. I can teach you things you never dreamed, give you more experiences than you have ever imagined. All of this and so much more. But none of this will come to pass unless you move, act. So, I have no problem imploring you to take me, use me, fill me up, and in the process I will become more than I have ever been or could hope to be.

I would be your friend. Do that gladly and extend your world exponentially. You speak of fear, that I frighten you. Don’t you realize that the fear will only grow each time you say no to me? Become as solid as a brick wall you are incapable of climbing? You can run away, but be certain you will have to keep running forever. Is that what you really want? Really?

Fear must be faced, confronted. That is another of my purposes. I will be here, with you as you move into those dark and shadowy places. I will be your friend and help you attend to whatever you find there. But, again, that is all up to you. You are the main ingredient and I am just a tool.

So, use me, abuse me if you must, I don’t care, after all that is exactly what I am here for. And I can make you a promise, one that I can keep forever. I will never speak out of turn, never chide you, never point a finger, I don’t own them. The only speaking I will ever do is that which you allow me. I alone am nothing, just a sheet of paper, your humble servant awaiting your bidding.

With a great deal of gratitude, I am and will remain,

Forever Filled

Guilt Is Not a Feeling

 

Many years ago, a very wise person told me that “guilt is not a feeling, it is a fact.” It took me several more years to fully comprehend exactly what that meant. If guilt was not a feeling, and I could wrap myself around that reality, then I could be free of at least half, if not more, of the burden I was carrying around about my own person. But first, I had to be able to separate the fact from all of those feelings. That isn’t as easy as it sounds, because guilt feelings can be nothing more than a habit picked up in childhood and never dropped, through out a lifetime.

But, at least I had a starting point and that was better than none. We all carry guilt around, for both real and unreal reasons. Guilt is a hell of a motivator, when it comes to carrying out what we have decided, or chosen, as our responsibilities. And we all know people, individuals who carry far more than their fair share of responsibility. Always busy taking care of something or someone else, with never enough time to just sit back, relax and take time for themselves.

Freedom entails responsibility. Yet those overly burdened individuals, seem to have missed that point, given up the freedom in order to be the responsible people they are and have become. I often wonder what they think they are guilty of and how long they will continue to operate under the seeming mountain of guilt that they obviously feel a need to atone for. Vicious cycle, that one. It can and does often end up being the reason for disastrous choices that result in lives never lived fully, or far from happily.

So how does one separate the fact from the feelings? Carefully. Because there is a delicate balance in all things, there are those out there who never take responsibility for anything. They are experts at pointing a finger, laying down blame and walking away free and clear. Or do they? The best example I can think of is Adam in the Garden of Eden. When faced with God’s possible wrath for breaking the rules set up, Adam didn’t take responsibility, he shifted it to Eve, and then to God Himself, by saying in effect, “Don’t look at me, it was that woman You made for me that did it. She talked me into it, and I just didn’t have any choice in the matter.” Ahhh, poor man, he obviously didn’t know that one always has the choice to say no. Good thing God knew and still held him accountable.

But that is a good place to begin that sorting out that I spoke about earlier. Do you have anyone in your life who is constantly pointing a finger at everyone else, other than at self? If you are someone who picks up guilt feelings like a magnet, it might be a worthwhile endeavor to see if that pointing finger has homed in on you and if you have accepted the flag of guilt that it portends to.

Unhappy people have a tendency to complain and often wag a finger in the process. I have been dealing with someone like that lately. It is difficult to point back at the source, but I’ve actually done that on occasion. Most often, that falls on deaf ears, but at least I am able to remind myself that I haven’t done anything wrong and I am not responsible for that individual’s happiness, she is. It would be wonderful if she understood that, and maybe some day she will. One can always hope.

Most often, I head for my journal and talk it out with myself. I sort through the feelings until I find the facts of any given situation. If I don’t do that, I will walk around with a burden that is vague and uncomfortable, and definitely puts a cramp on my own freedom of thought and action, and negatively affects the simple pleasure in this life I have created. It doesn’t take more than a half hour to do so and the rewards are a lighter me, who can then go about my own life far more freely.

The flip side of that coin is to be honest when you ask yourself, “Did I do anything wrong?” I’m not talking about thoughts, or feelings. I am talking about actions taken. Remember, this is about facts. Thoughts and feelings are not facts. They do not become facts until they are acted upon. And the act is the only part of this that retains any possibility of guilt. And once that is determined, one has a definite path one can choose to take, or not.

That is not to say one should dismiss negative thoughts and feelings. One should, and can choose to explore them and try to discover their source. Perhaps, when it is discovered, it will lead to a change of heart, or even acceptance. And those are definitely to be counted in the freedom columns. They will also allow a wider of range of choices in actions, and thus, far less guilty feelings.

But what happens when you find that the guilt is indeed a fact? Again, new paths are immediately opened. A simple acknowledgment of the guilt, immediately lessens the burden of the whole. Apologies are difficult for some, but they often suffice and release a great deal of positive energy into a world that desperately needs more of that commodity. And that might lead to an action that will redeem or nullify the original one that caused all of it in the first place.

An act of recompense is definitely the individual’s choice. It doesn’t have to be public, or even stated as such. I once gave someone a gift to replace something I had inadvertently lost. I felt no need to explain and the individual was pleased with the gift and none the wiser. The individual never missed the object, but I still felt a need to do what I did, and get rid of the feelings attached to the experience. And it did just that. I made recompense and was glad to do so.

Some actions do need a more public recompense. But again, that is up to the individual. Giving ones self the opportunity to finally put paid on anything that will result in new freedoms is worth the effort. Getting rid of whatever load of guilt one carries is, and can be, an incredible experience. Allowing one self to know that guilt is never a feeling, but is a fact, is one of the healthiest things one can do for oneself.

Scratching The Itch

Writer’s Island prompt #14 “Just Around The Corner”

Have you ever hand an itch deep inside of your ear? Hard to satisfy it, isn’t it? No way to get at it, nothing fits, or is appropriate for the rubbing or scratching that will satisfy it, make it calm down and fade away. So, you find yourself rubbing the outer edges, and all that accomplishes is to make the itch even more pronounced.

Yesterday, when I went to check out the prompt on Writer’s Island, the minute I saw the prompt, I heard a whisper at my inner ear. It was another phrase, in my mind, and I knew that was the opening line for a poem I wanted to write. It took some work. Just because the first line fell with ease, didn’t mean I automatically knew where the rest of the poem was going to go, or even what it was about.

Where it went was back to when I was fifteen, and a person I haven’t thought about in at least twenty years, if not more. I had to work with the piece and was having some difficulty with the unwieldiness of the subject matter. I stopped for a while, to chat with a friend. Somewhere in our discussion, I figured out how to make the poem work. Went back to it and finished, then posted it on the Soul’s Music site. I was satisfied.

But the itch at my inner ear wasn’t. The phrase, the prompt: Just Around The Corner kept right on whispering to me. And although I shook my head numerous times, explored other possible meanings, it just wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t settle back, relax, or fade into the nether world from which it came. It was persistent.

Just around the corner is another world. When I was a child, it meant the intersections on both ends of the block on which we lived. We were not allowed to cross those intersections without explicit permission and a time allotted for return. What was just around the corner was mostly out of reach unless one complied with the rules set up for ones own safety. To do otherwise was to risk being grounded for several days or more, and who wants to waste summer vacation in that manner?

As we grew, just around the corner became a bit more freedom. A decided move away from home base. But it also meant more responsibility in an enlarged world waiting for discovery. There were always cautions administered softly but clearly. So much so, that just around the corner also entailed a bit of fear about the unexpected, right along with the bright promise of adventure and exploration. It always meant some risk. Risks I gladly took in order to satisfy that other itch of curiosity.

I, somewhat lazily and casually, mentally explored all of that during the day yesterday, in an attempt to get rid of that whisper tickling my inner ear. But to no avail, it still persisted. Found myself, mentally swatting at it, amidst the other activities I was engaged in, as though it were no more than some pesky fly, certainly out of season, and lacking any reason for its insatiable need to bug the hell out of me.

Finally went to bed and slept with no more than a few dream fragments that promptly dissipated upon awakening. But as soon as I turned on the computer and pulled up the next blank page of my journal, there was that pesky fly again. Okay, I admitted defeat, went right back to the beginning, which was that opening line to the poem. Just around the corner in my mind. I wrote in far more detail of that time period in my life.

Didn’t really care where it went, I was just filling in the page and it was a topic with which I could do whatever I wanted. And did. About three-quarters of the way down the page, I found the gold mine that pesky fly had been trying to get me to see the entire time. All the pieces fell in place. Long unanswered questions were finally answered clearly and with details. My life experience, only hinted at in the poem, suddenly became one whole thread, instead of the myriad of pieces caught in various, but separate, still life moments that it had been. Ker-chunk and Eureka all in one moment.

That pesky fly was no more. It had magically metamorphosed into a stunningly beautiful butterfly free to flit from one connection to the next, gathering the pollen of association and depositing it just around the corner in my mind, that one place that had been prepared over the years, to receive it, honor it, and become its rightful place in the order of things. Talk about satisfaction.

Just around the corner is still a risk and a freedom. Still entails a bit of fear, right alongside the promise of new adventure. But just around the corner, will also now mean, just around the turn of the next page, the next word, the next pesky fly that buzzes at and tickles my inner ear. Does it get any better than this? You and I won’t know unless we turn to that next blank page and scratch that itch that is tickling our inner ears.