By a happy coincidence, I’m re-reading Gabriele Rico’s book Writing the Natural Way as I write about the unconscious mind. Or maybe it’s not a coincidence. At least part of my brain was aware that the letter U was coming up in the A to Z Challenge. I like how my unconscious can nudge me toward action without my conscious mind being aware.

I first read Rico’s book in 1985, just before I went into medical school, and the creative thread of my life was suppressed for a while. It was the first craft book I’d read that convinced me I could write. More importantly, it gave me a reliable path to find something to say. Thirty-eight years later, I’m still finding useful things in this book. (more…)

It’s not like me to be sad or fearful for a long time. With age, experience, and mindfulness, I’ve learned to let go of negative emotions quickly, But things were different when I was in my medical training in 1990.

There was an event that shook me for several weeks. I perpetuated my anguish by isolating myself. I had no one I felt comfortable talking to about this. (more…)

R is a letter with many sounds. Pronounced from the back of the throat, it’s a motor humming, a dog growling, a cat purring. When trilled with the tongue, it’s a snare drum. When made with the lips, it’s the wind whistling a tunnel or through a flute.

R is for ritual. I’ve mentioned the value of rituals for marking the beginning of writing time. But any daily habit, done with mindfulness can become a transforming ritual. Here’s a poem from Pat Schneider about transformation. (more…)

Q: If I’m on a hero’s journey, what elixir do I bring back to this ordinary world?

I served on various committees when I was a physician, including the Infection Control Committee and the Antibiotic Stewardship Committee. Being an Infectious Disease doctor made it logical to be recruited to these meetings. (more…)

Every successful poem is a micro-transformation, both in the reading and in the writing. As I’m sure you’re aware, April is not only blog challenge month, it’s also National Poetry Month. When I first began writing poetry seriously, back in 2004, I learned that to write poetry, I had to read poetry.

I started collecting subscriptions to daily poems arriving in my email inbox. Today I’m presenting a roundup of those subscriptions. I still subscribe to all of these. Some mornings I’m too busy to read them all, but the poems sit there waiting for me, and on a quiet weekend, I immerse myself in poetry surprises. (more…)

O is for opportunity. In my life, I’ve discovered that misfortune can sometimes lead to opportunity. A sudden reversal can lead to seeing things in a new way. If  I’m willing to reflect, I can reframe the situation.

When I was deciding whether to close my practice, new competitors were a worry until I realized they were an opportunity. I stepped away from hospital work gracefully. My patients continued to get excellent care, and I got my decades-long wish to have weekends off. (more…)

When I say “new writing,” I mean writing generated on the spot to a prompt, like the writing that I do in generative writing workshops. In new writing, I get my stream of consciousness down onto the page. It flows, but it’s not usually good writing. It needs to be more concise, more vivid.

In Anne Lamott’s words, I have a “shitty first draft.” Now I can revise, combing through my material as many times as it takes to get it to sing. Is it rhythmical? Does it have memorable metaphors and images? I bring poetry into my prose. (more…)

Recently, I read a book by Javier Zamora, the memoir Solito. It’s the harrowing story of how he came to the US from El Salvador at the age of nine. His parents had already escaped from the horrors of the war, leaving Javier with his grandparents. His family paid a coyote to accompany him to the US.

It took him three tries before he was successful. After immigrating, Javier went on to earn an MFA. On the acknowledgment page of his memoir, Zamora speaks of how much therapy he had to undergo to unearth the trauma of this important story. (more…)

Let go of the outcome. It’s a paradox (kind of like writing formal poetry). I have a goal of letting go of goals. It’s a great learning process.

For instance, having a son is a blessing. He is smart, funny, sensitive, mature, and caring. Did I set out with these specific goals in mind? No, although my husband and I love the adult that our child became. (more…)