#reverb10 Day 2: Writing

2 12 2010

PROMPT: Writing.
What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

It’s simple: I don’t make writing a priority.  I would much rather spend 2.5 hours in silence with a close friend and absorbing that energy than spend 2.5 hours putting words to paper.  The latter experience seems so flat compared to the former and I would rather have an experience than try to conjure words to describe an experience.  Having said that, I love writing and get a bit of satisfaction when I’ve taken the time to capture a moment in a sentence, but I have no delusions of being a “writer” or making it a profession or having my words preserved for even one generation past my death.  My words and my experiences are both transient, so the emphasis is placed on the experiences and I don’t want to eliminate or change that.

What I do is force my writing into a scheduled structure, so there is no guilt if no words are typed or scribbled outside of that.  My Wednesday night Contemplative Writing Class has kept the words flowing for, how many? 3years? and in return I am treated to some of the most intense, honest, pure, unedited writing from my classmates and friends.  Anything written outside of those prompts and the subsequent 20 minutes of letters cascading on paper is bonus.

#reverb10 Day 1: One Word

2 12 2010

PROMPT:  One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

2010 word: Boundaries

About a month ago in my writing class, I wrote this in response to the prompt “What are you grateful for?”:

I am grateful for boundaries-those thick, black undrawn and intangible, but very real lines that keep me safe and protected when I choose to enforce them.
I am grateful for owning those lines, for being able to tell those crossing that “they’re very much mine, thank-you, and don’t make it about you.”
I am grateful when I remember that I don’t have to explain a boundary, but just enforce it.
I am grateful for the really painful boundaries that make you treat me with respect-or at least let you know when you are treating me with disrespect and I don’t like it.
I am grateful for the soft warm nest provided for my landing after you’ve stopped climbing the tree of neediness and discovered your boundaries in the branches of mine.
They can co-exist, you know, and it can be ok-for both of us.

I’ve been enforcing boundaries and speaking up for myself.  It has seemed critical and authentic and uncomfortable and brutal and vulnerable.  But there has been a liberation in the enclosure and honesty.  Sometimes I wonder if the boundary enforcement is a retreat behind a wall.  But I feel too exposed and raw for it to be a hiding. Read the rest of this entry »