Self-Talk #1

Okay, what’s the problem?

I’m not sure if there is a problem. Well, that’s not true. There is a problem. I want to create a post here, but I seem to be making nothing but mud.

Is there something wrong with mud?

Yah, it isn’t clear, it’s bits of dirt, some water, all mixed up together and doesn’t make sense.

So, go back to the beginning.

I think that would be the Rilke quote, the one about not going outside, but going inside to listen to yourself, to hear your own truth.

So again, what’s the problem?

Well, I started out looking for a quote, you know, to use at the beginning of the post, but it all got confusing really quickly. Couldn’t find the exact quote I was looking for and found myself reading all kinds of different things, and none of them fit. They sort of did, but not exactly.

Why do you need a quote, why can’t you just begin?

I thought about that, but I really liked the idea of a quote, you know, sounds more concrete, has more authority than just my words alone. This is prose. It’s not like a poem. You can use a quote for a poem, but most times a poem is just you, saying whatever you think and feel.

And that’s different than prose?

Well sort of. In prose, I was taught that you need to support whatever thesis you are attempting, with arguments that firm up whatever stand you have chosen.

And you can’t do that with your own words?

Well, yes I can. But, if I start out by using the words of a well known and respected author, or expert in the field, it lends more authority to what I am saying. I guess.

So, you must go outside yourself to somehow get permission to say what you know and hold to be true?

Ouch! When you put it that way, no. It’s just one of the ways I was taught how to write prose, especially essays. Even though what I write on this blog is mostly personal essays and those don’t need quotes as much as the other types of essays do.

But, isn’t most of what you write personal?

Yes, it is. I just wanted to continue with the quotes because I think Rilke’s quote is so very important. Not just to writers, but to anyone who decides to create anything. Oh shit! I just did what Rilke says not to do. I went looking for approval outside, instead of trusting what I’ve spent all these years learning how to do from the inside (in imagination, sees self smacking herself upside the head). Crap!

Okay, nuff with the dramatics. Let’s go back to the beginning. What was it you wanted to say to begin with?

I wanted to write about how incredibly important it was for me to find that story about Genie. How it resonated throughout my being and became the cornerstone of my understanding of so many other things.

Like? And what exactly do you mean by ‘resonate’?

To resonate is to resound. To hear it again, like an echo that vibrates through you whole being. Something in me, heard her story and started humming deep inside of me. I know now, that was my own inner child, hearing a piece of her own story and reacting to it. Getting my attention by sounding that echo. And as I wrote about Genie, The Wild Child, through the coming months, I also saw my own inner child, and somehow they blended together and became my Wild Inner Child. Together, they broke through the silence I had been keeping because of my past history. And all of that is what I found on those Morning Pages, I wrote almost twenty years ago. When I began reading those pages, a few weeks ago, that same echo came back loud and clear.

That’s a good thing, isn’t it?

It’s far better than a good thing. I was reading my own words, listening to my own voice, as I had never done before. I was reliving, resounding my own experience of hearing Genie’s story and having it impact on my own, forever changing me and how I saw myself and my place in the world. And the best part was that the me, in this present moment, could see it all more deeply and connect even more of the pieces.

What other pieces?

All the other stories, myths, legends, and songs I have explored and allowed myself to resonate with over the last twenty years. There are so many of them, and each one takes my own story deeper, filling in the map of my awareness in countless ways, all with deeper meanings and fuller understanding.

And that means what?

That I am exploring again, revisiting, resounding, and discovering all sorts of new ways to see and know the only person I can ever truly know: me.

Think that means you are feeling more alive than you have for a while.

Yes, it does. And that comes from reading my own words, listening to my own voice, finding my own heartbeat and truth, deep inside of me.

So, that means you’ve just proven Rilke’s statement true, right?

Yes, I believe you are correct, lol, and I didn’t need a quote to do it.

How about a high five?

You got it, kiddo.


About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here:
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6 Responses to Self-Talk #1

  1. Sherry Marr says:

    I LOVE this post, and enjoyed it immensely….isnt this the way we talk to ourselves? spin ourselves in circles to come back to what we know – but sometimes forget we know – about our inner voice…….loved this, Elizabeth. Resonate with understanding and putting together the pieces even more so now, twenty years later, with increased understanding.

    Sherry, you, of all people, have kept your inner wild child alive and well. I myself go up and down, and struggle with that reality still. This was the result of two days of driving myself nutty. When I finally got quiet enough to listen, this is pretty much what I heard. So, before I kicked myself for being so stupid, I got on here and typed the whole thing up and laughed the entire time I was doing it. And yes, I do need to go back and read those old pages more often. Love and hugs,



  2. margo roby says:

    What Sherry says [I love it when someone beautifully articulates my thoughts]. I still have your last post sitting in my inbox to respond to, but you know how that can go.

    You could do a found poem on this, a dialogue poem. I found myself doing that as I read through 😀

    Thank you for letting us hear your conversation, as it is one several of us will have [if not, already]. It is quite lovely the way your brain brings you through, so wait a little and read again. Perhaps not twenty years.

    I have found similar things about poems I go back to after a long amount of time: ‘And the best part was that the me, in this present moment, could see it all more deeply and connect even more of the pieces.’. Thank you for letting us come along on your discoveries.


    Margo, thanks for your generous and supportive words. I have done a few dialogue poems in this manner. Here is one of them:
    When I went back to find it, I found another one, but the formating on my site really messed it up for some reason. Am thinking I’ll have to try cleaning it up somehow. That one is far more important to me, personally. But, coming back here, when I was finally listening, after two days of frantic nonsense, my inner voice actually reminded me that I had done those other self-talk poems and might want to try it here. I started to object because this blog has been kept for prose, rather than poetic purposes. Wasn’t sure it would work in this format and was pleased as punch when it did.

    Wasn’t it Aristotle that started the dialogue approach with his students, and helping all of us move forward into an easier understanding? He would ask questions and the discussion would begin, as his students were forced back inside of themselves to look for answers. And you are correct, I won’t wait twenty years. As a matter of fact, I try to read five to ten pages, each day, and set aside those things that pop out at me. Not just poem snippets, but whole ideas that I have continued to explore and others that got dropped along the wayside in my rush toward a future that is now.

    I will definitely try more of this, it was certainly fun in the doing, and even better to know that others got something from it,



  3. margo roby says:

    Me again. I’m putting the roundup together and came across this on Adele Kenny’s blog:
    In “Little Gidding,” T. S. Eliot wrote,

    We shall not cease from exploration
    And the end of all our exploring
    Will be to arrive where we started
    And know the place for the first time.

    I just had a chill run over me. The brain is a wondrous thing and so is serendipity.

    Margo, so very glad you came back to share this. While responding to your first comment, I had my own incredible piece of synchronicity. That one self-dialogue poem that is all messed up, is about something that rose up again, on my horizon, only a few days ago. In a very real way, you led me back to my own voice and my own understanding and truth. But the best part was that when I first started reading those old morning pages, I felt led to reread a novel, I had read several years ago. In it, the heroine, facing incredible odds, finds clues to her current mystery in the words of T.S. Elliot that she has memorized over the years. And I come back here, to find you quoting the same. I love it when the pieces all come together. I really need to refresh my acquaintance with Elliot. Thank you for this bright spot in my day,



  4. Misky says:

    A very enlightening conversation. I think I’ll reread it though in order to fully absorb it.

    Thanks Misky. I’ve read it through several times and am surprised at how much sense I made while running myself in circles. One of the best reasons to write: So you can actually see what you are saying.



  5. margo roby says:

    I think things like you, and we all to some extent, small or large, are discovering is the answer to why we are here, our purpose, if we must have one. Aristotle knew, so did Eliot. If I weren’t 60 with quite enough on my plate to keep me happy for decades, that would be a fascinating and fun and rewarding thing to research, to see how many writers, philosophers, artists believed they knew why we are here.

    Synchronicities is something else we have learned is the way the universe works. There is a pattern and a connection with, between and among everything. They only seem to be coincidental. Do you know Frost’s poem ‘Design’?

    I am glad you have refound your passion in this, Elizabeth. You should receive many years of pleasure, other than those times the brain goes on strike. I’m in talks with mine


    Margo, I must agree, both about purpose and synchronicity. Thanks for coming back, again,



  6. Veronica Roth says:

    Lol, you sound just like me! Really, really enjoyed reading thru this dialogue. 🙂

    And I really enjoy writing them. Thanks Veronica,



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