Blog, Blog, Blog...
Very similar to Blah, Blah, Blah...
This weather has gotten me down. As a matter of fact it sucks! It's gray and dull and cold and, put simply, it's put me in a funk. I have one black and white shot left in the old Holga until I go back to the store so I've decided to save it in the event something supernatural happens.
So instead of a photo I thought I'd tell you about a seminar I attended this week. It was the first of a 12 week Journaling course offered by a therapist/author.
Many of those who attended have been doing this for as many as ten years, citing that it allows them to put the focus on their life, not as a mother, father, brother or sister. One woman told me that it's the only time she can get in touch with her real feelings when life is too chaotic to handle.
Our first assignment was to sit in silence and let our bodies relax while thinking about where our spirit was at present.
I, being the sot that I am, figured she was referring to the bottle of tequila I have in the cupboard above the fridge, so I was pretty smitten with myself.
Of course I was completely wrong about which spirit she was referring too so I had to really concentrate on how I was feeling about my inner self.
Trying to slow down a brain like mine usually takes the other kind of spirit (tequila) so I found this to be an incredibly difficult exercise.
I sat back, well, as far back as you can on an ottoman and closed my eyes hoping the darkness of my closed lids would hide all the thoughts racing through my mind. After all, even though I was invited to join this group, to participate as much as I wanted to, I was still there as a professional journalist. (Not the find your inner child and heal it kind of journaler)
Our fearless leader rang these two little bells together and, although it symbolized the silence we were supposed to be experiencing, it set my mind ablaze.
For me it was like somebody pulled the trigger, which opened the gates to let the horses on to the track at break neck speed. I kept peeking with one eye to see what the rest of the group was doing and they all seemed to be in this wonderful trance like state. Try as I might I couldn't stop fidgeting.
I knew we were going to have to write something about where we were in life, how we were really feeling about ourselves, but all I could think of was everything else I had to do for the rest of the day.
After hearing someone rustling paper about I opened my eyes and realized that some of the attendee's were beginning to journal.
I could feel my spirit lift because now I actually had something to do with my hands.
I too started to write and this is what came out:
The silence is unspoken on lips
But it moves one hundred miles per hour
One hundred images at a time
One hundred things to be done.
Don't listen to the silence
When all I want to do is scream
That I have one hundred more things to do today.
It's too hard to be silent
It's not what people expect of me
With a mouth that's usually flapping
One hundred miles an hour.
Lower your shoulders I tell myself
I have laundry to do
Let the breath fill your belly
That grumbles with hunger
Because I forgot to eat.
Turn in a story, start another
It's not what I wish
It's what's expected.
Time is usually never mine
By those who expect more
Always more.
Sitting in this silence
Makes me CRAZY!
What's next
I want to ask
Hold your tongue
It's not my place to speak
I am participating as an observer
But trying to do the work
One hundred miles per hour
On full throttle
I close my eyes
Look for the break peddle
But there isn't one
There never has been
I guess if I had a drink
I might feel calmer
But maybe not
Guess it's just my ADD mind
Doing what it always does
Racing from thing to thing
At the speed of light.
end...
I suppose this would suggest that I did not do a good job of getting in touch with my spirit, especially after hearing the other people read what they'd written.
Listening to them speak honestly about how certain events in their lives have left them high or low was almost like sneaking a peek through a keyhole.
All in all the experience was worth the visit. Can't say for sure whether I can attend the next eleven meetings unless I can somehow make my brain focus and get out of these get togethers what I'm supposed to.
(Maybe I'll toss one down before I go, although, 9:30 a.m. is a little early to imbibe.)
I'll keep you posted...but...right now I have a story to finish and another load of laundry to throw in!
This weather has gotten me down. As a matter of fact it sucks! It's gray and dull and cold and, put simply, it's put me in a funk. I have one black and white shot left in the old Holga until I go back to the store so I've decided to save it in the event something supernatural happens.
So instead of a photo I thought I'd tell you about a seminar I attended this week. It was the first of a 12 week Journaling course offered by a therapist/author.
Many of those who attended have been doing this for as many as ten years, citing that it allows them to put the focus on their life, not as a mother, father, brother or sister. One woman told me that it's the only time she can get in touch with her real feelings when life is too chaotic to handle.
Our first assignment was to sit in silence and let our bodies relax while thinking about where our spirit was at present.
I, being the sot that I am, figured she was referring to the bottle of tequila I have in the cupboard above the fridge, so I was pretty smitten with myself.
Of course I was completely wrong about which spirit she was referring too so I had to really concentrate on how I was feeling about my inner self.
Trying to slow down a brain like mine usually takes the other kind of spirit (tequila) so I found this to be an incredibly difficult exercise.
I sat back, well, as far back as you can on an ottoman and closed my eyes hoping the darkness of my closed lids would hide all the thoughts racing through my mind. After all, even though I was invited to join this group, to participate as much as I wanted to, I was still there as a professional journalist. (Not the find your inner child and heal it kind of journaler)
Our fearless leader rang these two little bells together and, although it symbolized the silence we were supposed to be experiencing, it set my mind ablaze.
For me it was like somebody pulled the trigger, which opened the gates to let the horses on to the track at break neck speed. I kept peeking with one eye to see what the rest of the group was doing and they all seemed to be in this wonderful trance like state. Try as I might I couldn't stop fidgeting.
I knew we were going to have to write something about where we were in life, how we were really feeling about ourselves, but all I could think of was everything else I had to do for the rest of the day.
After hearing someone rustling paper about I opened my eyes and realized that some of the attendee's were beginning to journal.
I could feel my spirit lift because now I actually had something to do with my hands.
I too started to write and this is what came out:
The silence is unspoken on lips
But it moves one hundred miles per hour
One hundred images at a time
One hundred things to be done.
Don't listen to the silence
When all I want to do is scream
That I have one hundred more things to do today.
It's too hard to be silent
It's not what people expect of me
With a mouth that's usually flapping
One hundred miles an hour.
Lower your shoulders I tell myself
I have laundry to do
Let the breath fill your belly
That grumbles with hunger
Because I forgot to eat.
Turn in a story, start another
It's not what I wish
It's what's expected.
Time is usually never mine
By those who expect more
Always more.
Sitting in this silence
Makes me CRAZY!
What's next
I want to ask
Hold your tongue
It's not my place to speak
I am participating as an observer
But trying to do the work
One hundred miles per hour
On full throttle
I close my eyes
Look for the break peddle
But there isn't one
There never has been
I guess if I had a drink
I might feel calmer
But maybe not
Guess it's just my ADD mind
Doing what it always does
Racing from thing to thing
At the speed of light.
end...
I suppose this would suggest that I did not do a good job of getting in touch with my spirit, especially after hearing the other people read what they'd written.
Listening to them speak honestly about how certain events in their lives have left them high or low was almost like sneaking a peek through a keyhole.
All in all the experience was worth the visit. Can't say for sure whether I can attend the next eleven meetings unless I can somehow make my brain focus and get out of these get togethers what I'm supposed to.
(Maybe I'll toss one down before I go, although, 9:30 a.m. is a little early to imbibe.)
I'll keep you posted...but...right now I have a story to finish and another load of laundry to throw in!
posted by jbwritergirl at 1:49 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home