It is important to write.
Your experience of your inner world, acted upon, impressed and marked by your outer world is worth capturing and expressing.
It is late spring and the cardinals, wrens, chipmunks and bees are busy in my yard. We sleep with the window open at our heads and the night sounds permeate my dreams. I keep falling in love with the world with each day, as Mary Pipher quotes in Writing to Change the World, this by Fyodor Dostoyevsky:
“Love all of God’s creation, the whole of it, and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light! Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. And once you have perceived it, you will begin to comprehend it ceaselessly, more and more every day. And you will at last come to love the whole world with an abiding, universal love.”
Tenderly today and before I head out to tend the nasturtiums, I wanted to let you know all my writing workshop went so well. Writing Motherhood last night was beyond my wild dream of what we could accomplish together in Edith Wharton’s Berkshire sanctuary.
Eight women joined me, the 8th arriving just after I laid her papers aside thinking she was not able to make it.
Thank you Goddess for fulfilling my desire for eight brave women.
We began in the way that I know, to center ourselves, connect with what is real for us in the moment and begin our writing journey there. I don’t expect any of these 8 women to achieve publishing success within the week. I do trust they will kindle their own voices, they will discover reservoirs of their own experience which will fuel life altering creativity to pour forth. I am not sure what that work will look like, but I surely am curious. (You can attend a public reading of some of the work being made this week, this coming Friday at The Mount. Here are details.)
Edith Wharton wrote with such articulate attention to the human condition as she saw it. In her fiction, The Mother’s Recompense, published in 1925 she wrote:
“Mothers and daughters are part of each other’s consciousness, in different degrees and in a different way, but still with a mutual sense of something which has always been there.”
This is part of the territory we are mapping in Writing Motherhood. Who and what we hold as always having been there, and what that looks like for each of us. We reflect on the past, but pull the lens forward to the present and cast light on our next steps. Personal writing stirs your consciousness and stories float in to focus. Once we begin writing them, the conduit opens and more stories, memories, understandings and yearning melt in to view.
Just like the red fox I saw last night. On my way home from The Mount, I stopped at the lake near my house to look at the twilit water. I rinsed my hands, preparing to step back in to the world of family life. As I shook my hands dry, I turned to the left and there was a red fox, brilliant in a flash then nearly invisible as it dissolved in to the woods.
We get those same flashes of magic, real life appearing in high relief. Writing is one way of gathering details, filling in the pictures in our hearts and sharing them with the world.
Off to the nasturtiums.