Tag: writers

Forgetfulness

I saw this poem the other day and I had the idea to keep it until Sunday (poetry day on the blog), but I feel like writing about this today. So I will. As I have entered into my fifties, I am more cognizant of everything that I forget. I’m actually pretty good with birthdays and anniversaries and taking out the trash days, mostly because I am obsessive about writing things down. I scare myself with the things that I do forget though. I instantly forget names of movies and books and the characters in them. I stumble with the words that I want to use when I am relaying a story in conversation, I forget the names of towns I have visited, I couldn’t tell you what cars my friends drive, and I often mix-up our kids’ and our dogs’ names when I am talking to them. But honestly, I think that I have always been that way. I really don’t believe that I am headed towards early dementia.

The things that I do recall clearly, are like they happened yesterday. I’ll recall a story someone had relayed to me years ago, and their mouths drop open. “I can’t believe you remembered that,” they’ll say. I remember the oddest things. I remember a lot of random moments, I guess because for some reason that moment struck me as emotional, or unusual, or important in some nuanced way. Most of us writers are curious. We are always looking to understand, to see the deeper meaning in things and experiences. Most of us writers are observers and “sensers” (not censors). We are always looking for the right words to describe the way things feel. We are a little possessed with the question, “Why?”

I wish that I could remember names and numbers and historical facts better than I do. But I’m grateful that I can remember how a moment felt, what was really being said behind what was being said, tiny trinkets and plants and artwork that marked both sets of my grandparents’ homes, and trivial stories told to me by strangers that turned out to have a lot more meaning to them, when I was willing to explore the plot twists.

My memory is fickle, but it is deeply entrenched in what is really important to me- the heartfelt connection we have with each other and with the Life Experience in general. My heart remembers better than my aging computer of a brain ever did, or ever will. And honestly, that’s all that really matters to me.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

1394. What sound relaxes you?

Not Alone

“Nothing I can say can have any effect, except to say to somebody else, “You’re not alone.” That’s as far as it goes.” – Kurt Vonnegut

I think that a lot of us creators, whether we be writers or painters or actors, poets, photographers, etc., have the secret impossible ambition of trying to help save the world with our art. We believe that if we do it just right, or we say it just right, or we come up with the perfect, exquisite wording, or we take one profound photograph that encapsulates all, it will end up being that ONE thing that helps to bring everyone in the world together, in recognition of our connectedness, and the pure beauty and majesty that is Life.

Maybe that overarching ambition is just ego. Maybe we creators are really just trying to find/save/understand/inspire/purge one person – ourselves. And when our creation does that for ourselves, and it sometimes even does it for a few others, as well, we rejoice. We totally rejoice in relief and confirmation. We feel connected and understood and validated and less alone.

I wish that I had the inclination, and the ability to save lives like firefighters or surgeons do, but I am more of a hindrance in emergencies than a help (plus I have a hair trigger gag reflex). I wish that I had the inclination to start a company that would create hundreds of good jobs to support hundreds of good families, but I don’t do well with structure, and math, and office politics. I wish that I had the inclination to get into politics and really clean up house, while also having the ability to stay personally clean while doing it, but I’m sane enough to not even dare to put my big toe into that arena. I wish that I had the unending patience and purpose of a teacher, but I often get bored and frustrated as easily as a toddler.

And so beyond my ambitious wishes, I write. I do what it inherently seems like I was meant to do. I like to believe that at the very least, as my writing heals me and helps me to make sense of my experiences, it sometimes gives that little spark of familiarity and comfort and recognition that says to someone else, as they let out a big, deep sigh, “Oh, thank you. Wonderful. I am not alone.” As Kurt Vonnegut says, “That’s as far as it goes.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Notice

Dear friends and readers,

I have never done this before, since I started writing the blog in 2018, but I have decided to take the rest of the month off from writing the blog. My husband and I have some adventures planned that we can finally partake in. We had planned to celebrate the raising of our four children to adulthood, a little earlier than this (our youngest started college last year) but we had to deal with health issues of extended family members and the death of my husband’s mother. It’s been A LOT and I don’t think that we have fully processed everything that has happened, and what we have gone through. We need an “escape time” for a little while.

I write this blog every single day. On rare occasions, I have written a blog post the night before, but that doesn’t feel genuine to me. I see this blog as an extension of me, and where I am at in the moment. It’s not a business. It’s an outpouring of my thoughts and my feelings. Where I am at right now emotionally, is a mix of proud celebration and relief, and desperately needing a break from my usual.

I hope that you won’t leave me. You can look at my archives to understand my consistent, loyal nature. I have every intention of coming back to the blog, feeling refreshed and optimistic about this stage of my life, and with a lot of adventures to write about.

I hope to “see” you around these parts again in May. I honestly hope that you will miss me. I know that I will miss you.

Sincere love,

Kelly

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Suck Up

“Goldman Sachs economists predict that 18% of work globally could be computerized, with the effects felt more deeply in advanced economies than emerging markets” (CNN International)

My four adult kids find Artificial Intelligence fascinating. We talk about AI a lot, and its implications. I listened to this recent full interview on CBS (link below) with Geoffrey Hinton, who is considered “the godfather of artificial intelligence”, as I was driving around, running errands yesterday. The grounds AI is making in such a short amount of time, is exciting and fascinating, all at once. I have that same feeling that I get before watching an interesting and intriguing, but terrifying thriller. I’m really curious, and I want to see what happens, but I’m also filled with dread and doom at the same time. Geoffrey Hinton believes that with AI here, we are on the brink of something bigger than the Industrial Revolution and/or the invention of the wheel. What I keep pondering is, will we humans soon be relegated to a lesser status on the food chain? Will we end up being “the apes” to Artificial Intelligence? Or will AI get into the wrong hands and take us all down to obliteration? (That’s my pessimistic side coming out.) If we do handle AI carefully and thoughtfully and consciously and wholesomely, it could make life easier for all of us, and allow us to pursue our creative and leisure pursuits more frequently and enthusiastically. Only time will tell . . . . .

Here’s a question I asked ChatGPT yesterday and the answer that I received back. (I find Chat to be kind of a “suck up”, but I also adored Chat’s articulate answer):

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Notebooks and Knickknacks

I know that I have a fair amount of fellow writers who follow this blog. Thank you. I feel so honored by this fact. I was thumbing through my current “inspirational notebooks” (see above) realizing that I would have to start a new one soon. I only have a few pages left in this one. My inspirational notebooks are a huge part of my writing process. Anytime I see a thought provoking quote, or I get a meaningful greeting card from someone, or a particular picture in a magazine moves me, I tape it, or I handwrite it into my notebooks. (I probably have about 3-4 filled notebooks now) Obviously, my notebook is messy and scribbly. It’s just for me. It’s not a scrapbook. It’s not for show. (I’m not nearly that neat nor patient.) Also, I’m an old fashioned gal. I like tactile stuff. I like paper calendars and pretty folders where I keep longer printed articles. I like to touch and hold things that have meaning to me. I remember things better if I hand write them. Here are a couple of recent quotes I quickly jotted down in my current notebook seen above:

“There is only one success – to be able to spend your life in your own way.” – Chris Morley

“Fate described – No matter how hard you try to for something not to happen and it happens anyway.” – Kristin Fontana (I thought that is was a really interesting take on “fate.” Fate is usually used in a romantic context, like “It was fate that they should be together.” Usually I think that fate would be described as a happening occuring, despite all odds, because it is just meant to be. But, in these last few years of witnessing loved ones suffering from serious illnesses, I understand Kristin’s description of fate, much better, unfortunately.)

Since I just shared these quotes on the blog, I write a light squiggly line through them, so that I remember not to repeat them here, but I can still read them, and let them continue to inspire me. I refer back to my notebooks many times. As my regular readers know, I consider this blog and my notebooks to be my “museums of thought.” My notebooks are my own personal “museums of me.”

On an aside, the sea turtle peering at my notebook in the video is one of my many knickknacks. I wish that I weren’t a knickknack lady, but I am totally and completely a knickknack lady. My knickknacks inspire me like my notebooks inspire me, plus I love to support local artists, and small shops, and antique collectors. The sea turtle was being sold by a street artist at a local fair. It’s paper mache and I adore him and his sweet face. The artist was an older, bearded man who almost seemed shocked that I wanted to purchase his little paper creation. Unfortunately, he wasn’t getting many visitors to his small, inconspicuous stand. I was thrilled to make him happy and I am grateful that he was willing to sell the sea turtle to me. I love my happy, little sea turtle (and the artist loved the sea turtle). We creators know that we are bravely giving away a little bit of ourselves (and a little bit of sweet, vulnerable love) with each of our creations that we share with the world.

Now circling back to my fellow writers, what is your writing process? What inspires you? How do you keep your notes? Is everything in your head? Computer files? Do you allow yourself to be inspired in your own special way? Are there new processes which you can utilize to dig deeper into getting to know your truest self, and thus helping you to find your truest writing “voice”? Answer me in my comments, if you like, but most importantly, answer these questions for yourself.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Bonus Blog Revisited

Friends, I wrote the blog post seen below about two years ago. I never mentioned the subject again. I never planned to repeat it again, but the truth is that my web hosting bills came due, and like all things these days, their charges went way up. Please read the following (please and thank you ahead of time). I appreciate your support in all the ways that you show it!!

A Bonus, I guess

What a Writer Wants

I saw this quote on Twitter today and I thought, “Wow, I do love Nicole Lyons because she just so eloquently expressed the hopes of most of us writers.” When I think of who I would love to have met in person from the past, Mark Twain always comes to mind and even Oscar Wilde. I so admire clever writers. When I am watching a movie or reading a book or even noticing a fun quote from Twitter, and I see a line that just says exactly how I feel in the most relevant, interesting, “damn, you just captivated that enormous feeling and sensation in one simple, profound sentence”, I am in perfect awe.

I wonder if we would be disappointed by our favorite authors, though. Comedians are often the most depressed people among us. (probably because they are so good at pinpointing all of the absurdities of life that the rest of us so blissfully ignore) They aren’t always “on” and I think that comedians often resent their own humorous talents for the expectations that these innate gifts create. I believe that most of us who love to write are introverts. I, myself, am an extremely friendly introvert. People don’t believe that I am an introvert because I’m friendly and “perky”. But I am a friendly, perky person who likes to spend a lot of her time with her friendly, perky self. I express myself much better when I write. My mind is always on overdrive so that when I speak, I think that what I say, often comes out kind of confusing and jumbled and ditzy and regrettably, many times, too direct. But when I write, I understand myself distinctly. When I write, I discover my most authentic, vulnerable self. So, it is true, as Nicole Lyons states, that when I write, I share my barest soul with you, my beloved readers. Thank you for treating it so kindly and respectfully.

A. A. Milne Quote: A writer wants something more than money for his work: he wants permanence.
The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respec... Quote by Leo. C Rosten - QuotesLyfe

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Walking the Line

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” – Anne Lamott

“The pen is mightier than the sword.“ – Edward Bulwer-Lytton in 1839

Last night we had an interesting, lively dinner conversation. My son and my daughter were talking about the latest music video/film recently released by Taylor Swift. The video is mostly based on Taylor Swift’s song (with a little bit of acting), “All Too Well”, long believed to be about Taylor Swift’s brief romantic relationship with the movie star, Jake Gyllenhaal. The video/song doesn’t paint “Jake” in the best light (if it is truly about him), yet at the same time, from my mature woman’s eyes, it shows some naivety and immaturity on the girl’s (in the video) part, as well. My daughter is a Taylor Swift fan, and my son often proclaims Jake Gyllenhaal to be possibly the best actor of all time, so it made for fun dinner banter. I honestly admire both Swift and Gyllenhaal. I think that they are both incredibly talented, passionate people, and I can see why they may have fallen for each other, even for a few short months. For his part, Gyllenhaal has remained completely “mum” as far as a response to the recently released short film/video.

After going back and forth as to who is “right” in this situation, I brought up a story I read yesterday, about two writers who were in a Facebook writers’ group together. One of the writers gave her kidney to a stranger, just for the altruistic experience, and she brought this fact up, frequently to her writing group. One of the other writers in this same group, never acknowledged the fact that the other writer had given up one of her kidneys. She never said anything about it at all. Later, it turns out that the silent writer had written a “fictional” short story (that won an award) about a narcissistic woman who had given her kidney to a stranger, purely for “the glory of it all.” She wrote lines in the story, which were almost verbatim to lines that were shared in the writers’ Facebook chat, in which they both belonged. There have since been lawsuits and stalking and all sorts of brouhaha with these writers, and their friends, stemming from this unfortunate situation.

Which brings me to this thought: This is the hard line that we walk as writers and creators, correct? Our stories are our own. Our experiences are our own. We own our perspectives on what has happened in our lives. No one can tell us that our perspectives are wrong or false, because what happens in our own lives, and how we perceive these experiences and relationships, is entirely unique to each of us. Jake Gyllenhaal could produce a video and a song about his relationship with Taylor Swift, and it might look entirely different than what Taylor portrayed, and neither one of them is wrong.

As a writer, I understand the power that I wield with my pen. It’s a responsibility that I don’t take lightly. I’m good with words. I can communicate my perspectives in a way that often resonates with people. I constantly weigh how much I share about my life, in written form, on this blog and in other pieces that I write. My relationships with my loved ones are of utmost importance to me. I want to honor my loved ones’ privacy and feelings, as well as I can, while still honoring myself authentically, and honing my craft. It isn’t easy. I have erred in being an over-sharer, and I have erred in keeping too silent. I constantly worry that people whom I am most intimate with, will become too guarded with me, for fears of becoming my next blog post. And yet, writing is an outpouring of one’s creative soul. As a writer, your readers can feel when you are hiding and holding back, especially when they have read enough of “your stuff” to know your essence and your writing style. Honestly, in weighing in on all of this, I have even considered when and if I should destroy all of my private journals. If I am gone, all that is left, is what the people who are reading my journals, perceive of what I wrote. The people who would be reading my journals, would be the people whom I am closest to in my life. When I am gone, all that I want left from any of my important relationships, is the deep knowing that I love “my people” beyond measure, and I always will. That is all that matters to me. My greatest joy in writing, is the creative act of writing itself. Everything that I write, I want whittled down to the only end result that matters. Love. I love to write. I love “my people.” I love trying to find meaning in my life through creating written words that are interesting to read and mostly, for me to write. That is it. That is all she meant. That’s all she wrote.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Your Perfect World

Fortune for the day – “The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread.” – D.H. Lawrence

I am one of those people who is pretty open and approachable. This has been a blessing and a curse in my life. I’ve had to do a lot of studying about boundaries. Yet, at the same time, I have met the most fascinating people, with the most engrossing stories because I honestly find most people, from every walk of life, absolutely enchanting and I think that they figure that out pretty quickly. This morning my friendliness was a beautiful blessing. I met a fellow writer in the least likely of places. We are having the popcorn ceiling removed in our garage. The project supervisor is a lovely man named Walberto Campos. I mentioned that I would be inside writing if he needed me to answer any questions. He mentioned that he, too, was a writer. He writes poetry, political satires about what is going on in his country of El Salvador, and he is currently working on a novel. We completely bonded in the matter of a few minutes over our love for the written word. He showed me a couple of his poems. He had written a passionate, beautiful poem for his wife, as a Valentines gift. I asked him if I could publish it on my blog and he generously offered it up. I was going to wait to publish it on Soul Sunday, but instead, I will offer it up as a gift to all of us today. On a funny aside, with all of this popcorn ceiling business (which is 100 percent my husband’s detail oriented side coming out), I insisted that my husband handle this enterprise completely, from getting estimates, to setting up the project and then arranging to pay for it. I get burned out of babysitting house projects very quickly, and then, the not-so-approachable, not so very friendly side of me, rears her ugly head of snakes. So, this morning, I told Walberto to just text my husband the poem (the love poem) because that would be easiest since he and my husband have been making all of the project arrangements through text. He looked at me like, “Okay, really?!?” I said, “Don’t worry, Walberto. I’ll text him that it is coming, but we’ve been married for over 25 years. He’s used to these things, with me, and the new friends whom I meet all of the time. It would be weirder if he didn’t get a love poem from a contractor on a Monday morning.” Here’s the poem. Start Monday off right:

Open, Honest and Real

Image result for quotes in recovery circles about being unique"

In this day and age, the above principle is a tough ship to navigate. I feel like I know three camps of people: people who epitomize the acronym “TMI” and let it all hang out, to just about everyone they see, meet or greet in real life and on-line, and then they are utterly shattered when they are used or taken advantage of; then there are the people who are so private, so completely protected by a wafting sense of mystery and secrecy, leaving everyone who meets them totally frustrated, always yearning to find the hole to scratch and find the actual beating heart and true, open, flowing emotions, under the veneer of steely, calculated collectedness; and finally, there are a vast amount of people who work desperately to keep up and preserve a cheerful, carefree image for everyone, online and offline to see, but in person, seem to be staving off a loneliness and a yearning for connection, underneath the flimsy, cardboard, surface-y, semblance of it all. I think that I have vacillated in between all three of these camps, for most of my life.

People who read my blog often comment on the fact that I don’t mention my family members’ names. People who know some of the major crises I have experienced in my life (by this middle time in life, we all have gone through at least one or two “major biggies”), are sometimes curious why I don’t choose to write about these events. The reality is, I’m still navigating my ship of disclosure, trying to find the waters that are comfortable to me. At the same time, I am not a pirate. I respect the other ships on the sea, and I steer clear of their own private, personal journeys. Their journeys are not mine, and their ships are made to sail along different waters, than where I am headed. Even if we do find ourselves in the same pool of calm or stormy seas, I can only speak for my part of the adventure. How I am experiencing the waves and the turbulence, and even the calm, still waters, may be different than the other ships, because they are built differently that I am, and they carry different cargo and baggage than I do.

In the end, as important as authenticity is to me, and as much as I value real, heartfelt connection, I value the relationships at the sacrosanct table of my life, far more than anything. It’s a fine line to cross and to navigate, especially as a writer. Recently, I was telling my husband how frustrated I am by the fact that my life feels so full of little, aggravating interruptions and I often wish that I could disappear for vast amounts of time, to just focus on writing. But then the “aha moment” came to me, that all of my writing comes from my day-to-day experiences and my interactions with the people at “my table” and even the people standing around the table or even with the people, in the far corners of the rooms of my life. These experiences are priceless to my understanding of myself and thus the extension of myself, my sacred practice of writing, which helps me make sense of that deeper understanding of myself.

Today, with this honest, candid inside view of my thought/writing experience, I have invited you, my faithful friends and readers, to some very special seats, at my table. Thank you for taking the seat, and allowing me to share. I hope that you will sit and stay awhile, and I promise to keep your seat empty for you, when you return again. It is then that I will give you the same warm smile that I wear on my face right now, thankful for your place settings, in my life, making me feel worthy, understood and connected and open and honest and real.