I'M MOVING!

I've found a new home! Everyone needs a change of scenery once in a while. For me, the new scenery is over at wordpress with my new blog. Well, not new. It's the same old blog you see here, with just a bit of a face lift. I have different pages now and all sorts of other features that fit my current stage in life a little better than this blog. So please come over and check out my new diggs (still under construction). My new address is http://www.womenswritingcenter.wordpress.com/. Hope to see you there soon! Thanks for checking in!

Behind a Mask

I've been working on telling the truth. To myself, to others, in writing, and out loud. I've been working on being real and clear and authentic. Telling the truth means saying what really happened, telling how you really feel, expressing what you really want. And that's hard! Most of us live our lives hidden discretely behind a mask. We put up a front, we cover up, we lie, to make people think we are someone different than who we really are. Or perhaps we do it to protect ourselves or others from pain, embarrassment, or discomfort. Maybe we are afraid of what others will think of us, or how the truth will change our lives. The truth does change lives. That's just the way it is. But getting through those changes and turning them into positive, transformative experiences is what makes truth-telling so powerful.

This blog, and other attempts at sharing my writing are some of the ways I am practicing truth-telling. Not long ago, I hid most of my writing from others. I shared my writing with very few people, if at all. I was afraid of what others would think of me. Maybe they would think I'm not such a good writer. Maybe they'd be shocked by my subject-matter or opinions. Maybe my secrets would change their opinions of me. Maybe people would look at me differently, laugh at me, get angry with me, or think I'm odd. Maybe I'd get hurt.

But, with encouragement from writing friends, teachers, and loved ones, I took the leap and began "publishing." And here I am, 80 or so posts in and I have never felt better about myself and my writing. I don't know who reads this blog, or if anyone even does (if you do, why don't you comment once in a while!). But I post anyway. I write about what's going on in my life. I write what I am thinking about. I write to share, inspire, and express. And I try, with every word, to tell the truth.

Telling the truth is freeing in a way that can only be understood by experiencing it. First there is fear. Then there is the act of truth-telling - filled with all the anxiety, excitement, and questioning that comes with putting yourself "out there." But then there is this release - it's out there, you've set it free. You can't take it back and even if you can, it's too late. You've said it or written it and the moment has passed. Then you stand up, take a look at yourself, and realize that you're OK. Life did not end, the world did not come crashing down around you. Chances are, your family and friends did not immediately call you up to laugh at you, yell at you, blame you, or scorn you. You are OK. You've lived through it and you have changed because of it.

That's how I feel every time I post a blog entry or read a piece I've written out loud. I felt especially strong and free when my podcast was broadcast on Women Writing for (a) Change http://www.womenwriting.org/. My voice, my writing, and my truth are now out there for anyone in the world to hear. And I'm not so scared anymore. I've told my truth, I've set it free, and I'm moving on. I'm moving on to further truths, deeper truths. I'm moving on to become more real, more free, more clear, and more authentic.

I'm taking off the mask and stepping out into the world as ME. I don't want to be afraid anymore about what others will think or say or feel. I don't want to worry so much about the opinions of others. And I don't want to shape myself to fit anyone else's idea of who I should be. I want to be who I am. And though I haven't yet figured out completely who that is, I'll be sure to tell the truth when I do.

Craving a Good Book

Oh, I ache to sprawl out on a lawn chair to read a great novel. I yearn to curl up in a corner chair and dive into a classic. I dream of lazy days, laying on a blanket on the lawn with a bowl of apples and a juicy novel. I wish, I wish, I wish, I could read a novel right now!

But I can't. I am busy writing my thesis and cannot be distracted with great works of literature and art. I LOVE books, and tend to dive in and get obsessed. I often read books from start to finish in one sitting, if I tend to fall in love. Or, if I can't do that, I'll spend every free moment with book in hand, devouring as much as I can in the time I have to spare.

I miss books! Well, novels. For the past two years I have read books in enormous quantities. I have even read a novel or two. But all of my reading has been focused on my graduate studies and the ultimate thesis. I love everything I read, of course, but it also seemed a bit like work. Reading for school is a duty, a requirement (even if self-subscribed), and something that must be done instead of something that is desired.

I want to read a novel just for the thrill of it, for the pleasure, for the experience. I want to sink into imaginary worlds and fantastic fictional situations. I want to dive into character's lives and leap from page to page as the story bounds ahead. I want to read!

The best chances I might get to dive into a novel or two are through books on CD when I make my weekly drive to Cincinnati, or as I read books aloud to one of the students I tutor. Those opportunities, though not preferred, will have to do for now; until I finish my thesis, at least. The distraction is just too great, and I know if I picked up a novel right now I would read instead of write. And that can't happen!

So I'll wait. I'll listen to books on CD and live vicariously through my student. I'll sample short magazine articles and read snippets here and there from anthologies. And I'll yearn for the day when I can open a full-length novel, thick and heavy with words and stories, and dive in to reading again for the joy of it.

Where I'm From

Here's a free-write from the poem, "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon. When I say free-write, that means that I wrote freely - without worrying or editing or analyzing. This is just the way the words fell on to the page...try it yourself.


I am from beach sand and salt air,
From digging ‘til we reached water and
Mud pies in the back yard.
I am from painting rocks and riding bikes,
And learning to swim before I could walk.
I am from pungent odors from the Lobster Barn
And reeking low tide.
I am from itchy eyes and sneezing, the Memorial Day parade,
Summers at Spermacetti Cove, and sleigh-riding down the school hill.
I am from a single mom with three jobs,
A dad who never lived up to the expectation,
Fierce protection of siblings and
Diebold-Kuser wars.
I am from Marlboro Reds and Budweiser,
The step-daughter and the middle-child,
The fat girl and the best friend, and
The one who always got hurt in the end.
I am from road trips and heading out,
From secrets and hidden dreams,
From heart break and hope, and
Where do I go from here?
I am from listening and getting through it,
From “it’s not my shit” and “don’t cry out loud,”
From wading through flood waters and
Dancing in the hospital elevator.
I am from Jiffy-Pop and candle-lit dinners,
From concoctions and Chunky Beef over rice,
From making due and doing our best and
Never letting them get us down.
I am from who I once was to who I am now,
From transformation and evolution,
From a little bit crazy and a whole lot of fun,
From giving it all and wanting so much,
From wishing and hoping and dreaming and
Doing.

Waiting For My Soul to Catch Up

A teacher once explained to me the Native American belief that our souls need time to "catch up" after a journey. At the time, I was having trouble writing about a recent move from my home at the New Jersey Shore to the mountains of Colorado. I couldn't put my experiences into words and was even struggling to center myself in this new time and space. My teacher told me that I needed to let my soul catch up and settle back in to my body before I could fully take in those experiences. I almost feel the same way right now. I have just returned from a ten-day trip to the East Coast to visit home, family, and friends. Driving back to Indiana yesterday, going 7o mph on the Interstate, I think I may have left my soul behind. And now I am waiting for it to catch up.

I have unpacked, settled the material things, started the laundry, and quickly jumped back into the routine; but I am feeling a little "off," like something is missing. The last ten days were a flurry of activity. I stayed in a different place almost every night. I visited or drove through seven states. I played with nieces and a nephew, spent time with my siblings and my mother, visited friends, and hung out with children I used to take care of (now in their teens!). I walked for hours on the beach, my toes sinking into the wet sand as the waves gently washed over them, and journeyed around New York City on foot. I took a boat cruise and a train trip, and I drove (and drove and drove and drove). I had a wonderful time and I enjoyed every experience. The trip was fulfilling and exhausting. By the time I pulled in to my driveway back in Indiana last night, I don't think I could have driven another mile or slept anywhere but my own bed. It was so nice to be home (this home in Indiana).

But it still feels like I am not fully home yet. It feels like I am only halfway here. And here is different. It's almost like I am looking at it with new eyes. I wonder, will my eyes ever adjust so I see this place the same way I did before? Or is this new perspective the way it will be for me from now on? Once my soul catches up, will I just go back to the way I was? Or did this recent experience change me - like most experiences do - and transform me into someone new?

I'll have to wait and see. I'll have to wait for my soul to catch up and see who I am then, when body and soul merge back into one.