Mystery Solved

I couldn’t put words to the vision, perhaps because the vision itself wasn’t clear. Looking across the Godfrey’s living room while  babysitting, I vaguely sensed a phantom group of sophisticated people gathered in a dimly lit, smoke-filled living room much like this one. People lounged on sofa and chairs, some sitting on the floor. They sipped martinis or gin and tonic, discussed philosophy, and ascended to levels of vision inaccessible to mere mortals. These beings were in touch with another realm, larger than life. In touch with the gods? This vision stirred a nameless yearning for something mysterious and transcendent.

Though I seldom thought of it until several years ago when I began writing about those years, that vision has stuck with me for many decades, remaining clear and compelling, an enduring enigma. Over a few years, I’ve written about it from at least a dozen different slants, chipping away, bit by bit, seeking to discern what I was yearning for. Words like transcendence, intellectual and vision came to mind. Those people seemed privy to wisdom and cosmic truths that I yearned to learn.

I came to see this quest for understanding as my metaphor of what may well be mankind’s eternal quest, the force driving most religions. But the mystery remained locked. I continued to hold it gently in the back of my mind.

Last week I found a fascinating thought in Paul Watzlawick’s classic, How Real Is Real? Mankind craves universal unity. I felt a buzz of recognition when I read that thought, and I reread it several times over the next few days, seeking to fully understand its appeal. This seemed deeper than casual allusions to world peace or fear-mongering talk about sinister cabals.

Finally the dots connected: I was imagining phantom people who were at one with Source.

As I realized this, several related pieces fell into place. They saw order. Of course! I’ve mentioned before that Story is the operating system of the human brain. We crave unity. We also crave order, logic, understanding. We want to make sense of life.

But wait. I discovered another channel in this scene, one I’d been unaware of. At least to my young mind, these people had broken through the shackles of convention and societal expectations. They were free. They were bold. They were unafraid. They were happy with who they were, and for at least that moment, that was enough.

Bottom line, they were immersed in universal LOVE. (I remind myself and readers that I had no basis in fact or experience for this totally fictitious fantasy.)

Well, what do you know – universal love is something I know a bit about, and it doesn’t take a cocktail party to find. After all the books, the rituals, the prayers, the seeking, it’s just … there. My mystery is solved, and through the magic of story and the magic of words – my words, Watzlawick’s words, and many others – the yearning has come full circle. How delightfully ironic that once I saw, I already knew.

Perhaps my life would be equally rich if I’d never unlocked this nagging mystery, but the fact that it stayed freshly in mind for well over fifty years, begging to be solved, says something. I’m convinced I would never have unraveled it if I had not discovered various forms of life writing. I’ve journaled about it, scribbled random thoughts,  written essays and stories. My writing process chipped away at the shell, thinning it to the point that Watzlawick’s words could rupture that final protective membrane.

What will I do with this insight now? Maybe nothing. Or maybe I’ll include it in another memoir or work it into a novel. For now it’s on my scrap pile awaiting further disposition. Or not. Perhaps solving it is enough.

Write now: write in whatever form you choose about a compelling vision, memory or thought that’s puzzled you for years. Keep writing about it off and on until its message becomes clear.

Spreading Ripples

I crawled into my cave, pulled a rock over the entrance, and binged on memoirs for the past week or so. I got caught up in a ripple effect and made a few unexpected discoveries in the process.

In the previous post, guest blogger Samantha White explained how writing her memoir changed her life. This theme of writing as a transformational process is becoming a hot topic, and an increasing number of people are turning to writing specifically for its ability to heal, change and transform lives.

What I’ve rediscovered during my reading orgy is that this transformational power is contagious. When I read a story that changed the author’s life, by the time I close the covers, I’ve experienced some changes myself. I learn and grow right along with that author.

For example, one of the books I read is Mark Matousek’s memoir, Sex, Death, Enlightenment: A True Story. Reading this book was an adventure. In spite of the fact that lots of elements of our lives are black and white different, many of his insights and truths set off fireworks of recognition.

When I finished reading, I began to ponder a recent “conversation” with my Inner Critic about the memoir I’ve been working on for a couple of years. In that conversation, after IC finished ripping my work to shreds, he surprised me by giving me a bizarre instruction: I should “dive into the circle” of an ocular migraine I was experiencing at the time. This shimmering ring of light would lead me to the answers I need, he claimed. I thought I heard him mutter “I dare you!” as he faded from the scene.

Yeah, right. Woo woo! But hey – stuck writers are game for all sorts of weird tricks, no matter who suggests them. The time seemed right, so based on reverberations from Mark’s book, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and visualized that shimmering ring, then slid through it like a playful porpoise.

I surfaced in the middle of a situation that occurred early in my first year of school. At least a decade ago I had recognized that memory as a watershed moment. As with most other key girlhood memories, I’ve written all the juice out of that experience, I thought down to gray gristle. How could this be the answer to unblocking the stuck project that IC rightly deemed “bo-o-oring!”?

To my amazement, ripples generated by the stone of Mark’s story did their work and washed up an additional layer of discovery. The meaning of that event was even more profoundly significant than I’d yet realized. This is unexplored turf. That event is once more juicy and tantalizing, and the insight drips with timely promise.

Further details are beyond the scope of this post, but I mention it to show the value of shared insights. Regardless of how we go about clearing debris from our soul, writing about the experience can comprise a double blessing. Writing is a path to insight for many. Writing can strengthen and deepen it for those who follow other paths. When those stories are shared, they may spark further insight in readers. Mark’s story lit a candle in my life, and I have no doubt it has done so for tens of thousands of others over the years.

Write now: find a good memoir, perhaps one of Mark’s or Samantha Whites, or Cheryl Strayed’s Wild. Read it with a notepad at hand to record any insights it sparks. Journal or write stories based on those insights, or your thoughts about the book in general and how it might apply to you.

Monroeville Library Lifewriters

The Monroeville Public Library Lifewriters group began meeting five years ago after students in a six-week lifestory writing class I taught at the library wanted to keep meeting as an incentive to stick with their writing projects. All agreed to meet on a regular basis, twice a month, without adjusting the schedule to accommodate absences of any members, myself included. The group has continued to meet skipping only the second meetings in November and December, ever since. We have no formal membership or structure, and our average attendance has grown from around six at the beginning to a dozen today. Only a couple of original members still attend. The rest have cycled in at various points since.

Several members contributed short pieces for this post telling about the value the group and lifewriting in general has had for them. Excerpts follow.

Ellen: I am passionate about lifewriting because I am telling my own personal story in my own voice. Others can listen if they want, but the joy is in the telling. The joy of the lifewriting group is that there are eager listeners to my personal story—and they validate my life. I am passionate about lifewriting because I am telling my own personal story in my own voice. Others can listen if they want, but the joy is in the telling. The joy of the lifewriting group is that there are eager listeners to my personal story—and they validate my life.

Helma: I began writing my memoir in 1987 and continued to add to it periodically but never on a regular basis. I began with the marriage of my parents and tried to write a chronological-type bio. It was slow and infrequent work. Then one morning at the health club I happened to overhear two women discussing the writing club at my local library and decided to investigate, which I did and found that I would be welcome to attend. At first I was somewhat intimidated by their knowledge of writing and grammar, but the warm welcome and positive input soon changed that. In the short space of time that I have been with them I have gained much from the positive critiques. I look forward to each meeting.

Joan: The group gives me advice, critiques my work, accepts me for being me. My life is an open book and I enjoy sharing the good times as well as the not so good times. No one judges me. When I hear another person in the group read a story about something in their life, it inspires me and triggers another one of my memories, which could have stayed dormant forever.

Margaret: I really enjoy the group, and the friendly interaction of each one. It's good to know other people’s stories and how they grew up and what their thoughts are about life. It's heartwarming to know that we can connect to other people, no matter what our up-bringing or circumstances.

Chuck: I have taught many different university-level writing classes, edited technical writing, and written 42 plays and two writing text books, so I know how to write. So I do spend a lot of time proofreading and never dash something off the morning of the class. And yet, I can overlook my own typos, and I always appreciate the keen eye of one of the group spotting an error. I definitely find being a part of the group extremely enjoyable. People in the group are great; and the group serves as great motivation to write. I've been deeply moved by something that each person in the group has written.

Nancy: For some time, I had been thinking about writing my memoirs, using "I remember when  . . . " as my theme. I tried a class at the Penn Hills Library in the summer of 2010, but was somewhat disappointed to learn that it was a group for all types of writing; in addition, once my fall schedule began, I was not free the night the group met. One of the members of the Monroeville Library group, a friend from church, encouraged me to visit. I have thoroughly enjoyed the group, hearing others' memories and sharing some of my own. The constructive criticism and the positive reinforcement meant so much to me. Our two-hour meetings twice a month work well for me, and we always seem to find time for every person to read his or her story.

Paul: You could display my two books that you inspired me to author and publish after the age of eighty.

Paul, the author of Living to Serve and Bridges to Peace wrote this brief response while on vacation. He is working on a third book and is a charter member of the group. I mentioned him in an earlier post.

Thanks to all the members who responded. I hope their comments may inspire others to join a group, or start one if you can’t find one.

Write now: about your experience with writing groups. If you don’t belong to one, write about benefits you might receive from one, and reasons you may think of starting one.

It’s Been Five Long Years

A little birdie just whispered in my ear, “Check the date of your first post.” Sure enough. Today is fifth anniversary of that first post. It’s hard to imagine that it’s been that long.

For those who came in more recently, this blog began about the time I fully formed the intention of writing The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, and the blog bore the same name as the book. By the time the book was published about eighteen months later, my interests had broadened beyond just story writing, and within a year or so I renamed the blog, omitting the “story” to arrive at the current title. 

Over the course of the five years in nearly 500 posts, I’ve covered almost every topic relating to life writing: story writing tips and techniques, working with your muse, journaling tips, elements of memoir, the nature of memory …  If all the archives were printed out, they’d fill about five volumes.

Some have asked where I get my ideas for posts. Sometimes my muse Sarabelle whispers them in my ear. But a majority are written in response to questions students ask or comments on forums and other blogs. Now and then I write about a book I’ve read or a news item. In short, they come from anywhere and everywhere. 

Through the five years I’ve become keenly aware of the power of Story and blogs to create community and connection among life writers. Many have told me my blog is a sort of coach (I’m also available for standard coaching). It’s been a nudge to my creativity, and hopefully yours. I’ve shared computer tips. 

More than a few times over the last couple of years I’ve felt like I’ve said it all, and perhaps it was time to post a “Finished” sign. But there is always more to say. I’m working now on plans for expanding the scope of the blog. Stay tuned for more details. 

Write now: jot down some thoughts about an ongoing project of your own. Take stock of your accomplishments as well as your plans and dreams for its future.

Paper versus Pixels: the Debate Goes On

In January I participated in an experiment to explore the relative merits of journaling on paper versus keyboard. The research project was spearheaded by Amber Starfire, owner of Writing Through Life, a blog and ezine devoted to the fine art of journaling. For one week we wrote by hand. The second week we used the computer, and the third week we mixed the two. 

Official results have not been released, but I was a little surprised by my personal findings. From the time I received a Hermes Baby typewriter in preparation for going to college, I used a keyboard for just about everything but taking notes and signing checks. For over a dozen years I kept sporadic journal entries in ongoing documents, adding to them through the space of a year. 

Three years ago I began journaling on a regular basis, loosely following the Morning Pages model. After spending two or three weeks reconditioning my writing muscles, I fell in love with hand writing, finding deep pleasure in watching words pour from my hand onto paper. They seem more real, more immediate, more connected in three dimensions that any pixels on a monitor ever will. Writing by hand often invokes a meditative state. While writing stories, essays, blog posts, articles, and all that other stuff is still fine on the keyboard, journaling by hand has become something of an obsession. Magic happens. I feel more creative. I don’t recall my muse  Sarabelle ever visiting while my hands were on a keyboard.

But still, I’m up for experiments and try to keep an open mind. I’m aware of the advantages of using the computer. Amber summarized them beautifully in a post about journaling software. 

My experience confirmed my preference for writing on paper, for all the reasons I already knew, but it also reactivated my appreciation of computer journaling. My journals have pale golden pages as warm as morning sunshine. After recoiling from the icy white digital page, I set the page color in Word to palest pink, adding a header of slightly darker hearts. Then I downloaded a hand printing font not too different from my own and used deep violet “ink”. This combination tricked my eye and made a world of difference. My E-journal feels less like “more work.” 

However, I did not find myself drawn into the meditative state. My thoughts remained closer to the surface. This may partly be due to the crisp percussion of hitting keys versus the smooth, analog glide of gel pen on paper. Clicking versus silence. The rhythm and flow are different. Also, the keyboard and touchpad on my laptop are wiggy (I will journal in my comfy chair, not at my desk, however I do it). The cursor jumps around now and then. To avoid chaos, I must often reposition, which breaks the flow.

Focus is a concern. When I write on paper, I’m journaling. That and nothing else. I’m aware that I could type in some of what I write, but that never happens. If I use anything, I rewrite it. When I write on the computer, some tiny portal remains active, reminding me I can easily recycle parts into a blog post, email, or whatever. That keeps one eye on the window to the world. 

For me, 95% of the value of keeping a journal lies in the writing. If my journals are lost or destroyed, so be it. I cherish this break from the keyboard and need it for personal balance. But I think I will be using the keyboard to capture more thoughts that aren’t so deeply personal. I might even invest in journal software for the purpose. 

Write now: try Amber’s experiment for yourself and draw your own conclusions. Then send me an email with the results. If you already have strong feelings about this, post a comment and share them.

Lifting the Clouds of Depression

“Lifting the cloud of depression is one of the documented benefits of expressive writing, aka life writing, especially in the form of journaling, rants or freewriting.”

I got sidetracked after I wrote that sentence and before I sat back down to finish this blog post, I checked my e-mail. There I found the latest edition of Amber Starfire’s stellar Journaling Through Life Ezine. The first sentence in her feature article reads, “A recent article on health said that feelings of helplessness and lack of control are significant factors contributing to depression, particularly for women.” Well, hey! You know the saying, “Great minds run in the same channels.”

Back in the ‘70s when I was a psychology grad student, Locus of Control was all the rage, and research papers and theses (including mine) in psychology departments all over the country incorporated Rotter’s Locus of Control Inventory. A strong correlation was found between a strong external locus of control and depression.

Translated to Plain People Language, that means that the less control you perceive yourself to have over your own life, the more likely you are to become depressed.

Back in the day, I scored high on internal locus of control. I just found a self-scoring version on the University of North Carolina’s psychology department site. I don’t recall finding the test irritating thirty years ago, but today my preferred answer would be “neither one” for most questions, rendering my score personally meaningless. My path to that change of perspective could make a excellent personal essay topic.

In spite of being out of sync with questions on that scale today, I still subscribe to the message of Viktor Frankl in Man’s Search for Meaning that others can control every circumstance of our lives, but they cannot control our attitude. To me, that’s the ultimate in Internal Locus of Control. To date, the most powerful tool I’ve found for maintaining attitude control is “root writing”, a term I introduced in my Tree of Life Writing post.

By root writing I mean rants, freewriting about puzzling situations, and journaling in general — personal writing best done “underground” and left unshared. This writing helps synchronize head and heart and maintain that sense of personal control.

Which brings us back around to the well-documented value of expressive writing for lifting the cloud of depression. Or maybe keeping it from settling in to begin with. There’s nothing like a good session with my journal for maintaining serenity and optimism.

Write now: click over and take the Locus of Control Inventory, then journal or freewrite about the thoughts you have about your score. If you are subject to depression, try using James Pennebaker’s formula for exploring some of the “out-of-control” circumstances that may be contributing factors.

Writing Makes You Feel Better

Neuroscience is now validating what journal writers have known for ages: writing makes you feel better.

Brain researcher Matthew Lieberman does cutting-edge research in the UCLA Social-Cognitive Neurosciences lab, and although his primary focus is on language in thinking, much of it has fascinating implications about the possibility of using various forms of writing to reframe the way we view the world. Here’s a thumbnail summary of his overall findings:

When our brain is running on auto-pilot, the amygdala and basal ganglia (X system, for refleXive) sort input with lightning speed to produce reflexive responses to known stimuli. When something new pops up, the amygdala stalls out and a cluster of the anterior cintulate cortex, prefrontal cortex and medial temporal lobe (C system for refleCtive) kick in to reflect on the situation and select a contextually appropriate response.

The X and C systems are hard-wired with an “either-or” switch. They can’t both run at the same time. So when we are in a constantly changing environment, the C system stays on most of the time. Recent research has shown that using language activates the C system, even when the X system is on track. Behavioral responses (overt displays of biochemical surge-induced emotions such as  facial expression and language) are moderated when they stream through the C system.

These results suggest that writing about memories establishes new cause-and-effect relationships and reprograms the amygdala, eventually creating new response patterns and reducing stress. James Pennebaker’s seminal research and the myriad follow-on projects clearly demonstrate that writing about traumatic memories defuses them, but doesn't tell how that works

Lieberman joined the crowd replicating Pennebaker’s research with the addition of brain scans and explains the results. "Writing seems to help the brain regulate emotion unintentionally. Whether it's writing things down in a diary, writing bad poetry, or making up song lyrics that should never be played on the radio, it seems to help people emotionally," Dr Lieberman said.

Write now: pull out your journal or blank paper and write about something distressing or puzzling. Write about it three or four times on different days until it begins to make sense in a new light. Dr. Pennebaker's guidelines are here if you want further guidance.

I Don’t Feel Like Journaling Today

I woke up this morning thinking I wrote a lot yesterday and the day before. I don’t have anything to say today. I can skip it. I don’t have to write everyday. I want to get back to my manuscript. I need to make nametags for the new class today. 
 
In short, I itched to do anything but write in my journal. I’ve been lax about journaling lately. It’s so easy when I’m on fire with a new idea or picking at a knot of understanding. Other days it feels in the way. How easy it would be to fall away from the practice, and I don't want that to happen, because I do believe in the power of Practice. 

Journaling is a Practice. Natalie Goldberg writes constantly about the importance of Writing Practice and her Roshi validated it as Natalie's Way. He put it on a par, at least for her, with “sitting” (in meditation). I also find that writing focuses and clarifies my mind. I know from experience that journaling often pays its biggest dividends when my thoughts are whirling and passion is high.

So it was today. Within the space of half an hour I came up with two new concepts that laser in on the lake of energy behind an inner dam of blocked vision that I hadn’t realized was there! A list of blog topics spewed out. Ideas for two new classes and books emerged in full focus and clarity. I could write the Table of Contents right now.

Yes, I’m juiced. I’m stoked. The time I invested in journaling will save that much time and more by smoothing the path of other things I do today. 

What’s my bottom line here? Usually the days I don’t feel like journaling are the most important days to do it.

What did I do to get the pump primed, to make it work?

• I sat down, picked up my journal, opened to the next empty page and wrote the date. (I write the date and also the day of the week — if I get mixed up on the date, that helps me untangle later by referring to a calendar, and it occasionally provides valuable context.)
• I wrote the obvious: “I don’t feel like writing today.” 
• I began writing about what I’d rather be doing. On the second “rather” writer's rush set in. My concept expanded. It was still largely documentary, but new ideas poked up heads like sprouts in spring. Words flowed.

I didn’t get close to any topic that will move my manuscript along, but a small resentment I thought of and captures proved to be a gold mine. Words are flowing, and the energy from focus on other projects will move the manuscript. Yes, this was time well spent.

Write now: Open your journal if you have one. If you don’t, open a new file or get a fresh piece of paper, and write for twenty minutes. Just write, about anything that comes to mind. Write about why you don’t feel like writing. Write about a dream project. Write about something that puzzles you. Just keep your finger smoving and see what surprises emerge. 

Photo: Lee Coursey

Dreaming Pieces of My Heart

This morning I awoke in a rosy glow of delight, recalling an amazing dream. In this dream I was able to change a potentially ugly situation into a joyful one. Other dream fragments bubbled to the surface.

As I slid out of bed to record these shimmering dream bubbles in my journal, I recalled an event related to these dreams, and then a few others. I jotted all these thoughts in my journal as fast as I could, in highly condensed form. Related thoughts and insights tumbled out.

The result is rather like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle scattered on a table, without a cover picture to guide the assembly. I don’t yet know what it all means.

I find great value in dreams for uncovering hidden thoughts and beliefs that wouldn’t occur to me other ways, and discerning Truth. Capturing these fragments on paper serves an important purpose. It cements them in my waking reality, and gives me a way to return to ponder them at greater length and find connections among them.

This is not the first time I’ve had an experience like this. I don’t regularly remember dreams, but as I do, as I consider their implications, small changes in my understanding are growing into larger ones. Fragments are coalescing into a developing story. Ultimately I suspect they will form a new “Story of Everything.”

In a real sense, I am “restorying” my life, one dream, one fragment at a time.

What does this mean, to have a restoryed life? A few months ago I gazed at my knee, amazed to realize a scar formed there when I was eight years old has completely disappeared. I began searching for other scars. A couple are still visible, but over the years, while I was not looking, most have faded and healed over. I still remember picking scabs from that knee, but the visible evidence is gone. Even my body is telling a different story these days. This restorying process is healing scars on the inside. Perceptions and memories have taken on new slants and shimmer.

I have no formula for this process and haven’t read one. It’s intuitive. All I know for sure is the value of dreaming and writing pieces of those dreams to fit together as they will.

Write now: think of a dream you’ve recently had. Write about it in your journal or ordinary paper. Record the dream, then ask yourself some questions, such as “What do you think this means? What is this dream telling me? Write the questions on your paper, then start writing the answers without specific conscious thought. You may be amazed at the answers that bubble forth.

Journaling Your Way Through Fear

The last few days, and presumably the next few, I am exploring journaling as a way to face down fear. I'm scheduled for cataract surgery on my left eye on Monday, and the right one ten days later. In general, cataract surgery is no big deal. In fact, my father claims that he'd rather have cataract surgery than a root canal. It's said to be the most frequently performed surgery in America, and virtually 100% effective, with infection and other complications virtually nil. 

It does help to know that, but it isn't that simple in my case. If I were having standard, old-fashioned cataract surgery, that would surely be enough to hold my fears at bay. But today there are choices. Today there are at least three kinds of hi-tech "premium" lens implants available to increase post-surgical range of vision, perhaps to that of a healthy young eye. 

My choice is the Crystalens. Some people never need glasses, even for reading, after these lenses settle in. Most need over-the-counter reading glasses for prolonged reading. I can deal with that. I already have umpty pairs of special glasses positioned around the house for specific needs. 

I've done my homework in selecting both lens and surgeon. So why the anxiety? I wonder, will they work perfectly? Will I need further treatment for my minor astigmatism? Will I be happy with my choice? This latter question is a biggie. The basic surgery is covered by Medicare. The premium lenses are extra. I'll have a tidy sum invested in these new lenses. I expect to be looking through them for another thirty years or more, and this is an irreversible decision.

Over the last few weeks, I've filled a dozen journal pages as I worked through this decision. Now I'm at the howling stage, anticipating the final step: "That doctor is going to slice open my eye! She's going to suck out my real lens and put in a plastic one! What if it doesn't work? What if I HATE it and want my old eyes back?

I WANT MY MOMMY! 

I'm going to have to settle for a picture of my mommy. But it helps to write it, in huge letters, filling half a page. Just saying it helps. I can write, and drop tears on the page, and I feel better. 

Yes, journaling definitely helps control current levels of anxiety. It helps by simply letting the feelings out in a safe and honored place. On the page they feel real. They have substance. They are transferred from my heart to the page, without danger of being lost or dismissed. It isn't just fears that go there. I write all the solid reasons why everything is going to be okay. I've written them so often I'm staring to believe them. 

I have found a great way to face my fear down — on the page!

Write now: think of something you are feeling anxious about. Take ten or fifteen minutes and write about it in your journal. Let it all hang out. Scream and yell on the page. Feel sorry for yourself. Call names. Cuss if you want. Then give yourself a pep talk. If you don't have a journal, or you want to be sure nobody finds this, use plain paper and shred it.  

Accentuate the Positive

How often have you heard the mantra “Your problems are your best friends,” or some variation thereof? I could fill several pages without stopping as I listed all the reasons we should rejoice in our tribulations because they are such valuable learning opportunities and that sort of thing. Indeed, I even believe most of those reasons.

A variation of this advice carries over into lifewriting wisdom. Yours Truly joins such notables as Dr. James Pennebaker, Univ. of Texas Psychology Department chair and author of Writing to Heal, and Linda Joy Myers, Founder of the National Association of Memoir Writers and author of The Power of Memoir, in extolling the virtues of using stories about dark moments to give balance to a memoir or collection of vignettes. Experts agree that journaling or writing about traumas and difficulties is helpful for instilling insight, healing pain and anxiety, facilitating forgiveness and transforming lives.

Nothing in this post should be construed as negating that advice, but there is another side of that coin that has largely escaped notice. That’s the wisdom of “accentuating the positive.” Pennebaker’s initial research emphasized the value of writing about trauma, but as the years have passed, further research has shown that writing about happy events and memories has almost as much therapeutic value.

Dr. Martin Seligman, Director of the Positive Psychology Center at the Univ. of Pennsylvania and author of Authentic Happiness, has spent decades doing research on the health and other benefits of optimism and happiness. His research shows that these traits can be learned, and while he does not advocate denial, he does demonstrate that there is tremendous value in accentuating the positive.

To greatly oversimplify the vast sea of research in these areas, the results indicate that it is indeed beneficial to face problems and challenges squarely, and to do so with an optimistic attitude that it will turn out to be a blessing in disguise. It is equally valuable to write about our successes and moments of joy, and turn as much introspective attention to explore what we have been doing right and look for additional opportunities to do more of that.

If you don’t feel up to writing the tough stuff, don’t beat yourself up. Just keep writing. Write happy memories. Write fiction. Write anything at all, but do write — just for the health of it.

Celebrate success! Celebrate joy and happiness! Celebrate them in ink as stories, and refer back to them when skies and spirits are dark.

Write now: a story about one of your crowning successes or moments of great joy. Write about love and achievement. Wring your memory dry on this topic.

The Ants of Peace

Photo by JasonDGreat

Will Argentine ants take over the Formicidae world? It sounds possible. I was reminded of the lyrics of a children’s counting song, The ants go marching one by one ...  as I read an item in the December 2009 National Geographic about Argentine ants. They are gaining dominance around the world by their ability to get along well with one another. They are forming genetically consistent “super colonies” that enable an ant from one nest to mingle freely in another, preventing competition among queens and internest wars. Apparently this proclivity for peace allows them to solidly expand their territory, crowding out native ant species and interfering with local ecologies. I'll leave it to you to read more about this peril.

How strange, I thought as I read this. If ants can dominate by peaceful behavior, could humans do the same? If people with a peaceful mindset link up and live from a center of love, peace and gratitude, will we eventually overwhelm and crowd out greedy war mongers? Does this fit with what increasing numbers are coming to view as the shift in human consciousness toward global awareness and unity?

I find such questions rich fodder for journaling as I explore my thoughts and beliefs about peace, spiritual growth, and what’s going on in the inner and outer world. As I journal I’m increasingly able to catch myself at the onset of agitation and consider alternative perspectives. I’m increasingly able to remind myself that in a week, month or year, whatever is consuming my attention today will be a distant memory, and let it go.

Besides exploring my psychic navel lint, I write my visions — or fantasies if you prefer — of how life could unfold. I write visions of people all over the world joining in brain and heart waves of love and peace. I see the power of love-waves canceling out the clanging raging, turmoil of life was we know it today, as surely as ocean waters sooth and level the scars of wind, weather and human intrusion on beaches.

As I write about love, peace and gratitude, I reinforce this state within myself and become more peaceful. As I become more peaceful, others around me are able to remain more calm and peaceful. Hopefully, as I write publicly about love and peace, thought-seeds will germinate, like when I read about Argentine ants. The spread of peace among people is far more powerful than the peace of ants, because it will result in abundance for all rather than elimination and destruction of some as is happening with the ants.

The ants go marching ten by ten ... the end!

Write now: about love and peace. Write an essay with your thoughts on why, when and how you think world peace will occur — or why you believe it never can. Or write about your progress in achieving personal peace and serenity or lack thereof. Write about your dreams of peace. You get the picture. Write your own piece of peace.

Beyond All the Words

Beyond all the words is a place of great silence.

I recently read this sentence (or one much like it). I wish I remembered the source, but all I recall is being struck by its simple profundity. The context referred to endless talking, but my mind instantly shifted to writing.

Serious life writers, whatever form we choose, may find ourselves awash on a sea of our words. We write story after story, journal day-by-day. Words fall from fingers like autumn leaves from the tree of life.

I write, as many others do, not only to leave a legacy of personal and family history for future generations, not only to share with friends I know and haven’t yet met, but for understanding and insight. Journal entries, vignettes, essays, scribbled diagrams and mindmaps — these are all dots of understanding. Eventually dots connect into pictures, words into stories, and stories into understanding.

Until I read about the place of great silence, I assumed my words would pile up forever, and to what avail? Not even I will ever reread all the words I’ve written. So, what’s the point?

Now I see the point: to get to the place of great silence: a place of peace, beyond all the words. This place of great silence is surely the place meditators seek, the “peace that passes understanding.” I see it as a place where all the dots merge into a single source of perfect light, a place of wholeness, beyond understanding.

My word pile will continue to grow, as long as I draw breath. I love to write. Writing anchors my thoughts, stills and orders them. My words are stones on a path to understanding, but understanding is not the ultimate goal. That place of great silence, the place beyond understanding, beckons me with the promise of joyfully bright completion. I can go there right now. And come back to write again — until I’m ready to stay.

Write now: about your purpose for writing and what you hope to find beyond all the words.

Teachable Moments

Today’s Pittsburgh Post-Gazette features a story, Looking to Impart a Lesson, that discusses President Obama’s White House meeting “over a cool one” with Harvard professor Henry Gates and Boston Police Sgt. James Crowley scheduled for later today. Author Sally Kalson includes a quote from Ellen DeBeneditti, training coordinator for conflict resolution and mediation services of the Center for Victims of Violence and Crime:

“What could come out of this meeting, if it's done well, is that both sides have a better understanding of where the other one is coming from . . . resolution is not the only good outcome. Increased understanding of the other person's perceptions is also good. If there's a sense that you've been heard and gotten your point across, it's easier to be receptive to hearing the other person.”

Figures in the public spotlight are not the only ones with differing viewpoints and “teachable moments”. Families and community groups encounter these differences all the time, and life writing has something to offer in these situations. Writing and sharing stories of events in our lives, especially the touchy ones, is a powerful way of getting incidents out on the table where they can be aired and understood, paving the way for increased mutual understanding and respect.

Two things happen when you write a story. First, by getting your thoughts on paper, you make them visible and begin to forge them into a narrative, weaving them together in a more coherent fashion. Many people find things make more sense when their thoughts are out there, visible on the page, either in print or on the screen.

Second, it provides a way of getting the whole story out before discussion begins. A frequent response from a family member who reads a story of some past conflict or event is “I had no idea you felt that way,” or “I didn’t realize it affected you that way.” Had the matter been brought up in conversation, there are any number of reasons the account may have stopped short of full disclosure.

I hope today’s beer bash will indeed result in increased understanding and respect, but regardless of the outcome, I hope you’ll use your own life stories to build increased understanding and respect within your families and community groups.

Write now: about a tense situation you encountered with a family member. It may be recent or long past. The to best of your ability and memory, include your perceptions and reactions. Tell how you felt about the situation. When you finish editing the story to your satisfaction, share it with one or more family members and wait for their responses. Hopefully you'll all come to a better understanding of each other's sensitivites and points of view.

The Durable Part of Memory

Photo by Helga Webber

Yesterday I was hit over the head with a hammer regarding the durable part of memory. While we were fellow travelers in Africa, Alice and I spoke briefly about a paper she wrote in grad school while she was studying to be a psychotherapist. She read a pile of memoirs and synthesized some conclusions. Had we not been on vacation, I would have hammered her with questions, but at the moment, admiring elephants was more important.

Early yesterday I recalled that conversation with regard to my upcoming presentation on writing and healing. Maybe Alice could tell me a few things not already "out there." I quickly jotted an e-mail, asking about her dissertation (well, I assumed that's what it was). She quickly responded. "I don't know what you are talking about. My dissertation was on (something very different)." I wrote back and reminded her of the memoir reading and how she said she had wept her way through much of the project.

"OH! That project!" It was not a dissertation. It was in a class on Jungian psychology and for each one she read, she had to derive and write some personal synthesis thing. Obviously this is a Jungian concept or practice I am not familiar with, but that detail doesn't matter. Her only memories of the experience were of the intense pain of going through it, both the reading and the personal analysis. None of the hard data or details of her insights or the titles of the memoirs have stuck over the intervening thirty several years. The experience affected her on a deep level and shaped her life.

The mention of memoir and the report of weeping, the emotional part, is what I remembered. Emotions, feelings, those are the enduring parts of memory, and they matter so much, because they shape our lives. I remember the connection with memoir because it is intensely personal value-laden for me and resonated strongly.

Weaving those emotions into our stories is every bit as important as any possible facts surrounding the experience. Indeed, the emotions, the feelings, may be the story — as in this case.

There is another angle to this story that Alice and I have discussed. That is the power of reading about the experience of others, empathizing with that experience into our own lives. Deeply immersing ourselves in reports of other lives, real or fictitious, can be as powerful as going through the experience ourselves and often less costly in every respect.

That certainly sheds more light on the value of sharing our own stories. We may help someone else get through a rough patch of their own, whether that gravel lies in their past, present or future.

Write now: about reading a memoir — or a novel — that affected you deeply and caused you to view your life a little differently. Something that made a deep impression. Tell how it affected you, and what you remember of the experience.

The Life Writing Progression

The graphic above is fresh out of my head. You have never seen it before. I came up with it this afternoon as I worked on the handouts for a program titled Writing for the Health of it that I’m presenting in a couple of weeks. For some time I’ve been cogitating about how to pull together all the information and knowledge (there is a difference) I have on this topic. I had identified the categories in this graphic, but not until this afternoon did the pieces fit together so beautifully.

Each of these levels has health benefits. The "Raw Writing", especially the rants, has the most clearly demonstrated physical benefits, according to the hundreds of studies that have followed the pioneering work by James Pennebaker, PhD. I summarized this research in a previous post. The work of Kay Adams and members of the Center for Journal Therapy have clearly demonstrated the value of journaling, using dozens of specialized protocols. Kay has an amazing series of internet radio programs you can download and listen to if you are interested.

As far as I’m aware, nobody has scientifically studied and documented the value of writing stories and personal essays for physical health, but testimonials about its value for healing resentments, increasing self-esteem, lightening depression and similar thing are well known to anyone who teaches in this field.

Far fewer people engage upon the more rigorous undertaking of writing memoir, at least not beyond simple vignettes. Until recently, most people have thought of memoir primarily as a project to be undertaken primarily for the purpose of seeking publication. Why else would anyone undergo such a rigorous exercise? Since I became involved in the early stages of writing a memoir myself, I’ve come to see that sharing the finished story with others is a minor part of the value.

The more important value lies in examining a large collection of memories in an organized way, looking for the common threads that tie them together, finding meaning in unexpected places, and seeing my life as an ongoing arc of story. I’m finding more continuity than I expected, and am delighted to report that several old scabs have fallen off long-standing grievances, leaving no evidence of scar tissue below. Insight enables forgiveness and personal peace. Now, isn’t that worth investing some time in?

I have no plans to seek publication of my memoir project, but who knows? Neither Heather Summerhayes Cariou or Karen Walker had publication in mind when they began their memoirs, and ultimately their stories have emerged between covers, to the benefit of a growing number of readers. Both shout the healing power of memoir from the rooftops.

This graphic shows that memoir begins small, and develops in a predictable progression. If you sit down to write a memoir with no previous journaling or stack of vignettes, you’ll be combing back through memories, searching old letters, calendars and anything else you can find. And you’ll write stacks of vignettes and essays before they coalesce into a smoothly flowing story.

But you don’t have to progress to the stage of memoir to experience health benefits from writing. Much of the value can be derived from the simple act of ranting on paper, according to Pennebaker’s guidelines.

Keyboard or Paper? The Journaler's Dilemma

Photo by Paperback Writer

Last week I was pulled into a discussion of Morning Pages with a couple of other writers. One had not found them helpful and wanted to know our thoughts on the matter. This evolved into a conversation about the relative merits of writing by hand or on the keyboard.

This morning as I began writing in my hard-bound paper journal, I began feeling restless. It would be faster to write on the keyboard. I could use cut and paste and ... I began listing all the relative merits and demerits of each form and came up with the following list:

Digital journals are

• Faster to write
• Searchable for nuggets of wisdom that flow forth
• Easily copied into other documents
• Less likely to be found lying around
• Password protectable for security
• Subject to file corruption
• Potentially inaccessible as technology advances

Handwritten journals are

• Durable
• Satisfying to write in
• Potentially risky places to keep sensitive insights
• Possibly making use of hand-heart-brain connection in unique way

Ultimately I realized that neither is perfect. There are dozens of purposes for journaling and some are better suited to digital and others to paper. For me, the danger of writing exclusively on the keyboard is that I may evolve it back to yet another resource for projects and lose much of the truly insightful, creative, soul-nurturing power that writing “off-line” holds for me. I write for at least a couple of hours nearly every day, and using the same place and method for journaling is risky.

I’m going to stick with my paper journal as an adventure, because I’m never sure where it will take me, and I’m going to spend more time on journal-type writing on the computer, especially for things I’m uncertain about sharing. It’s easy to password a folder, and easy to delete words after they are written. Short of destroying the volume or tearing out pages, that’s hard to do with a paper journal, and that realization is enough to deter (me) from writing with utter abandon in a bound volume. I'll use loose sheets, perhaps the back of junk mail, for that!

Although the debate about keyboard versus paper was not conclusive during that conversation I mention, conclusions we did agree on incuded:

• Writing a journal, any journal, is better than not writing a journal.
• No matter how you do it, journals are a great legacy, for yourself now and future generations later.
• Sooner or later, keeping a journal will lead to insight, personal growth, and probably healing.
  

As I searched Creative Commons/Flickr for an illustration for this post, I realized another reason I won't abandon paper journals. I've become hooked on making my own — the physical distraction frees my creative juices — and it's immensely satisfying to write in a volume made by my own hands. In some way, this seems to give additional importance or “honor” to my thoughts and words, and that matters to me. (I could become equally hooked on buying gorgeous volumes.)

Write now: spend (at least) fifteen minutes doing freewriting — the basis of power journaling. Do it by hand, in a paper journal, on scrap paper, whatever; or do it on the computer. It doesn’t matter how you do it. It matters that you do it! If it doesn’t lead you to instant inner wisdom and deep soul healing, don’t fret. If you keep at it, sooner or later it will.

Don’t Fall into the Perfection Trap

Patrick has been working on the same story for three months now, rearranging words, adding a few lines, deleting others, and revising descriptions. “I can’t write anything else until this one is perfect,” he explains to his writing group.

If you are walking in Patrick’s shoes, remember, it’s super to have a polished, perfect story, but your descendants would rather have piles of drafts than half a dozen jewels. Even if you are working on a piece for publication, there’s a point beyond which you are unlikely to add value by obsessing. Start a new file and move on to escape the Perfection Trap.

Maryanne hasn’t written anything at all for several weeks, but keeps coming to group meetings, “Because I know if I don’t come, I’ll never get around to writing again.” Privately, Maryanne admits that when she thinks about sitting down to write, twenty-nine things seem more urgent. She’s beginning to realize that she just doesn’t feel like her stories measure up to her own standards or the work she hears others reading.

To all the Maryannes in the world (and your numbers are legion): There is no wrong way to write. Your story is as personal as your fingerprint. Revel in your uniqueness. Celebrate yourself. Let your words flow onto paper with as much abandon as they flow forth in conversation, and be pleased that they will reflect your warm and loving heart and personality.

If typing your story seems overwhelming, write with pen, write with pencil, write with crayons or markers. When it comes to writing lifestories, quality is good, quantity is better, anything is better than nothing, and it doesn't matter how the words get onto paper.

Have a talk with your Inner Critic and explain that your usual standards of excellence are to be held in abeyance, at least for now. Yes, you want to do a good job, but any lifestory you write (no matter how rough and crude) is better than writing nothing. So crank out those drafts (put “draft copy” at the top if it will make you feel better), edit as you get a chance — without obsessing over it, and watch that story legacy grow.

Write now: a journal entry or personal essay about your attitude toward perfection in your writing.

This I Believe

I believe that writing about life . . .

• lends richness to life.
• invokes a profound sense of gratitude.
• puts the past into focus.
• lets me see the past from many angles.
• makes it possible to understand and forgive hurtful acts.
• increases compassion — for others and myself.
• allows me to relive precious moments and savor them anew.
• builds connections between generations.
• revitalizes dreams.
• pays tribute to those who have helped me along my way.
• shares lessons learned with generations to come.
• gives me a chance to tell my side of the story.
• gives others a deeper understanding of who I am.
• keeps my brain active and healthy.
• is enlightening and often fun.
• is an intensely personal process to be done my way.
• can be equally rewarding for others.

The statements above do not exhaust my beliefs about life writing, but for the purposes of this post, they are sufficient. The idea for this list came to mind yesterday morning as I listened to seven-year-old Tarak McLain read a list of thirty things he believes on This I Believe as it aired on NPR’s Weekend Edition Sunday. You can read Tarak’s list yourself and listen to him read it on the program’s website.

Tarak’s list is amazing for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that he wrote it as a project for kindergarten class. Each child brought in a collection of one hundred items. Tarak’s items were beliefs — he edited the list down to thirty for the program. His mother helped him to think it through, but the words are his. The simplicity of his approach is refreshing, and easy for anyone to emulate.

Taking time, whether that be ten minutes, several days, or even weeks to create a list of your beliefs about anything from ethics and matters of the spirit to food preferences and humor, will give you a rich and vibrant reservoir of topics for writing spin-off stories and essays. These essays are a perfect way to create and pass along a legacy of your beliefs that will constitute an important historical document for future generations and include things that don't fit well into story form.

The website for This I Believe includes tens of thousands of essays submitted through the years, including the hundreds aired on the original program hosted by Edward R. Murrow in the 1950s. Read a selection of these essays to get a feel for the essay-writing form. The site has a link to essay-writing tips, and the NPR site includes an archive of podcasts from the weekly This I Believe broadcast. This I Believe also includes information on how to submit your work. Who knows? In a few weeks one or more readers of this blog could be featured guests. Do let us know what date you'll be on!

Write now: start your list of things you believe. Keep statements short and simple. You can write spin-off essays or stories about individual items, but don’t include details in the list.

The Turkey Farm

Who would think that a lifestory or memoir would be co-authored? Rather surprisingly some excellent ones are. I recently finished reading The Turkey Farm – Behind the Smile, a gripping memoir about Jennifer Keefe’s life. Jennifer survived, among other things, the brutal murder of her mother, being raised by the hippie farmer and occasional drug dealer her mother didn’t get around to marrying after she divorced Jen’s alcoholic father, early exposure to drugs, endless betrayals by family members and her first husband, and facing down her mother’s murderer. In the end, it is a story of triumph. You can read my formal review of the book on the Story Circle Network book review site.

Quite aside from the content, this memoir is worth mentioning for many reasons. Among them is the fact that it is co-authored with Cheryl Archer, Jennifer’s best friend, whom she has known since grade school. In an account on Citizen.com, the electronic arm of The Citizen of Laconia (NH), the women tell of their adventures in writing the book.

The idea began when they were nineteen and wanted to capture Jen’s “stranger than fiction” story on paper. It took over fifteen years and lots of additional life experience to come to fruition. Jen still had a lot of life lessons to learn, and in the process of working with Cheryl to clarify things in her past, the story became a “journey to forgiveness” rather than an expose.

That’s not to say the story treads lightly on any topics. As you’ll read in the review, Jen’s stepfather sued unsuccessfully to prevent the book from being published, and her birth family members surely squirmed when they read it. For various reasons explained in the book, none were willing to take Jen and her brothers into their homes and raise them after their mother died. Her disclosures are brave and true, written from a witnessing point of view rather than one of blame. It took guts to go public with that material in any circumstances, and hopefully her courage will inspire others.

Jennifer’s life was changed by insight and forgiveness as a result of her collaboration with Cheryl, but Cheryl found reward enough of her own. What could be more rewarding than to see your best friend “wake up”, confront the demons of her past, and triumph over them to become radiantly happy, with a plan for her future. “It was the best gift I could give her,” she says. And perhaps the best gift she could give herself.

This book, which can be ordered from this webpage, has many lessons to offer, and for our purposes here, I’ll highlight these:

• The healing value of life story writing. The entire writing process was valuable, and an impromptu writing tip Cheryl gave Jen led to the final resolution of her anger and allowed forgiveness to rise from the ashes of her despair.
  

• The value of teamwork. Although anyone can write something, and anything you write is better than writing nothing, some are endowed with a more powerful gift for writing than others. Cheryl has far more of this gift than Jen. Jen lived the story, Chery put the pieces together to “find” the story.

• The power of persistence. Although it took over fifteen years, and countless obstacles arose, they never gave up.
  

• The satisfaction of helping another. Cheryl has seen the transformation of her best friend, and what could be more satisfying than knowing she played such a role in bringing that about? Cheryl is continuing to write other things now.

After reading this book and thinking deeply about it, I’m considering volunteering for one of the many Hospice programs in our region to help capture deathbed life stories. Perhaps you can think of ways to use your writing skills to benefit your friends or family members.

Write now: some memories and thoughts about someone you care deeply about, friend or family member, who may benefit from your help in getting their lifestory written. Is there some way you can share your gift for writing to help this person tell his or her story?