Anger Blessing Cancer Desire Everyday Forgiveness Grief Happiness Introversion Joy Kairos Little Gidding Midpoint up the Mountain Nontraditional Medicine Other People Quiet Reading List Sleep & Social Distancing Teaching Until Finally Voice Writing Xenophile Yearning Zooming Out
My posts for April have been a fractal image of the journey itself, of the transformation I have made from silence to speech and song.
In the closing posts of my A-to-Z Challenge, I’m exploring the yearning that made me want to do this challenge, and I’m zooming out, widening my perspective to see what I’ve written about in the month of April. The yearning is for completion of the transition from the physician life to the writing life.
In this in-between time, I’ve made several writing commitments while not yet letting go of the physician commitments. For those dealing with boredom in this time of social distancing, my words may not resonate. Those who have taken on additional stressors, teaching, working, and learning online, for instance, will relate to my dilemma.
In this time of increasing xenophobia, I’m advocating for xenophilia. But not in the sense of embracing other cultures, although that’s important. I’m thinking more in the sense of what Buddhists call “Beginner’s Mind.”
When I’m able to be mindful, even mundane, ordinary things become strange, new, and different. By cultivating curiosity, I find painful sensations in the body are not static, but ever-changing and morphing. I’m reminded of how I saw things in childhood.
This week, I bought a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. They were expensive, but I told myself they were an investment in my life as a writer. Well, okay, I bought them in a moment of irritation when my husband wanted to listen to music when I needed silence. Such is the life of social distancing in the pandemic.
I tried using a room upstairs with the door closed, but I miss the windows in front of my desk. I need natural light almost as much as I need silence. So, I tried the headphones, and I love them! I found a playlist on Spotify called Writing Music. This morning, I put on the headphones and the playlist, and I went into the scene I was writing, not at all disturbed by the sounds of tea and breakfast in the kitchen. (more…)
The 22 Rules of Storytelling, according to Pixar include the following formula for a successful story spine.
Rule #4: Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___. One day ___. Because of that, ___. Because of that, ___. Until finally ___.
This rule has helped me work to make sure my memoir has a storyline, that it’s not just a list of events. I don’t want it to be a list. First, this happened, then that happened. Events may be interesting, but unless they’re linked by cause and effect, they don’t lead to a page-turner.
The opportunity to teach or get taught comes up multiple times a day if I’m paying attention. The process of writing my memoir is a great teacher. Last Tuesday, I felt like I made a breakthrough in how to write a scene. I submitted the scene to my coach, and I waited excitedly to get her feedback.
When I got it, I felt deflated. She said the writing was technically good, but she didn’t think it had the emotional depth it needed to carry my story along. She asked me to brainstorm a list of other potential scenes that would make my point better.
My coach is tough, fair, honest, loving, and encouraging – all the things I need a coach to be. Something in my body told me just to sleep on the feedback. I needed to process it and then decide if I agreed with her or not.
Like many of you, I’ve been trying to stay productive during this time of social distancing. I’ve tried using block scheduling, which my left brain loves, but my right brain rebels against. I love the challenge of finding a balance between polarities: masculine/feminine, right-brain/left-brain. This blog post from Jocelyn Glei helped me find a balance between doing and not-doing.
Today, I’m trying something new. I’m dividing the list of to-dos into morning and afternoon/evening. I’m a morning person. I think and create better in the morning. Tasks that need focus and concentration go on the morning list: writing for my memoir, catching up on patient chart notes, doing my taxes. (more…)
Since I’m working on a memoir, I’ve been reading a lot of them. These are the ones that have strayed into my path in the last six months.
Inheritance: Dani Shapiro writes a moving story about the emotional stages of learning her father was not her biological father after she submits a DNA sample to a genealogy website.
The Light of the World: Elizabeth Alexander captures both grief and love in this tribute to her husband who died unexpectedly. Her husband’s artwork was recently featured in the New York Times.
(more…)
One of the good things about learning and growing is that I keep getting clearer about what nourishes me. On the spectrum of sound, I prefer silence. On the spectrum of movement, I prefer stillness.
These preferences are not just reactions to an overly busy life, they have been with me since childhood. I’ve learned to accept that these choices make me different from most other people. I’m also grateful that my privilege allows me to arrange my life. Sounds are followed by long periods of silence; busy days are followed by still and peaceful evenings.
I have more authenticity and joy now than I did when I was younger. Once, my to-do list was filled with things other people wanted me to do, many of which I didn’t want to do. I grew resentful, first of those who had expectations of me, then of myself for going along, not having time or energy left for myself.
My journal entries from that time are full of references to OPE – Other People’s Expectations. Now, the items on my list are balanced between things that I’m doing for others and things I do for myself, and the things I’m doing for others are things I want to do. I got wiser, and I gained the skill of being able to say no gracefully.
