Writing with Rox weekly prompt—What is Intuitive Writing, anyway? (everything I ever needed to know I learned from intuitive writing)

This morning I was doing a little intuitive thinking and started thinking about my MFA program and how I got there... and how I got from there, over the years, to how I got here. And where is here? Happy. Here is happy. 

"Here" is also following this whirlwind intuitive writing path that I've been following now for about ten years. A lot of folks will email or call to ask what is intuitive writing exactly and how does it work? I tell them it's hard to explain, you have to just do it. I tell them it's a practice like any other and the more you do it, the easier it gets and before you know it, it changes your life.  The short answer to how it works is it's hard to explain because I make it up as I go, and because there is so much to it—it's infinite!—yet you begin with just one word. You just start with a word, a line, a memory, a feeling, a moment, and commit to it with love. See where it takes you. You won’t know where it’s going when you do it and if you think about it or try to prethink it, you’ll get stuck. If you just trust that the words know where they need to go and you stick with them, you’ll remember everything you love and then some. 

                                  

                                        THERE

I remember that rainy Seattle day vividly. I was driving to my job in Auburn, a 40 minute commute to misery. On clear days, you could see Mount Reineer and though I couldn’t appreciate it at the time, those commutes made the miserable job worthwhile. Of course it wasn’t the job, the rain, the divorce, the traffic, the clients, etc… it was me. I  was miserable.

I wasn’t doing what I loved. I didn’t like myself very much. So nothing at all was very joyful. I’m not sure I had much clue what I loved, though I knew I loved my cat. And the feeling I got swing dancing and singing camp songs with others and listening to Cake and Leonard Cohen, Eminem, and Sublime. Or following a strand of words across a blank page. Or playing air hockey. And being silly. And thinking about a first kiss somewhere dreamy out in nature or in a seaside city of cobblestone. Romance. I loved that. Or skipping. Or riding my bike in the dark cool summer nights. I loved the night.  Or parties where everyone talked about what was real, spoke from the heart.  Speaking Spanish with natives was cool. Speaking gibberish was a heck of a lot of fun. Admittedly, so were making crank calls. Whatever it was, I recognized this fleeting feeling as "completely alive," in full flow. 

Still... so what? Subconsciously I told myself this was not a "real" way to go through life. It didn’t add up. I didn’t pay attention to these things, give them much credence. They were hardly relevant because, what was I going to do with them?  None of these flashes of feeling fully alive, in my truth, etc, could ever actually make anything. And even if it did, it wouldn’t amount to anything. I tithed to the societal pressures telling me “well, you can’t make a living being silly. You'll never make it as a dancer, writer, etc..."  buying into the same mythology that you did: “So then why bother?” and gave up most of what I loved. Before I could even consider doing or even feeling the flow and excitement of what I loved, I shut it down. Didn’t even think about it. Of course growing up in LA this message came pretty early on. Everyone wanted to be a star and they nearly killed themselves trying. Well, some did. 

Still, even if I did pursue what I loved in any sort of organized outcome-based way, it was all too soon infected and then killed by self-consciousness, external expectations that I internalized for way too long. The love lost its spark. I could feel it in my body; I was out of sync with my authenticity. Of course I was only doing what most of us do, looking for permission to do what I loved, as though I had to pass some sort of test that granted me that right. I don't know if you all got the same message I did, but I grew up believing that only the very special/talented/beautiful/loved get to do what they love, live their truth. The rest of us had to hide who we were, shut ourselves down. And play it safe, get a  "real job."  Oy. What a setup. I took a "real job," lived a "real life." It's just what you do, right? You shut down your life force. And then you wonder why you want to eat so much. Or drink so much. You're only living half a life. So I went through life like that. Half alive.

Sadly, I wasn’t serving myself or God, or the “universe.” What does that mean? What is this "universe" speak? It means, I wish we taught our kids first and foremost to tune into what they love,  what makes them feel most alive and that as long as we do that we are serving self/God/universe best we can. It doesn't matter if we end up writing books, doing standup, or selling used cars; if we love it, allow it, if we are in our truth, we're going to be good at it. Otherwise we aren't good for anything. If we are killing ourselves and miserable dong (yes, I mean "doing," but I like "donging" better; somehow it seems more appropriate) what we think we should do or should be, we are not contributing to anything except an old mythology that is ready to fizzle out.

                                             HERE

It took me years to realize that there is no point. You just do what you love and see where it goes. You just do what you love, live what you love, and suddenly a million doors open up. You can’t know what those doors are before you start being and doing what you love; you just have to trust that they are there and will open.  And it might take a long time to see those doors because at first you don't recognize them; they can be subtle, unfamiliar. At first you may not recognize kindness or love so you don't see those doors. But eventually they start to appear more frequently, like everyday. And then you can't believe how many there are. It's infinite. And what you really can't believe is how they are never to rarely the doors you had hoped for before you got started on your truth path. 

So it’s not that honoring your truth/what you love doesn’t take you anywhere—it does— but outcome is not the point. In fact, you'll miss the outcome altogether if you are too distracted by it. I'm not saying anything new, I realize. The mindfulness folk say it a lot better than I. I'm just recycling the millions of gifted and well earned "aha" moments that have finally caught up to my body.

                    THEN, NOW: HERE, THERE

Of course none of this occurred to me on that rainy drive to work when I called Ma back. I may have been hungover. 

“How’s the job, hon?” 

“Awful. I can't stand it. I'm miserable. The only thing that ever made me happy is writing. Still. All I want to do is write."

"So why don’t you?"

"What do you mean? How? Actually, I have been thinking of MFA programs..." 

"So go." 

"What am I going to do wih it? You can’t make a living writing... Besides I already know how to write."

"No you don't. Just go. It'll be fabulous. If you're miserable, do something about it. If you know this is what you want, then fucking do it.  Why the fuck wouldn't you? You have to go... Roc?"

"Really? How am I going to pay for it?" 

"Your dad will pay for it. He'll do anything for your happiness."

So I took a leap of faith. Really, I didn't have too much to lose, but I thought I was losing everything, which, thankfully, I really was, though "letting go," is more like it.  So I got a free ride in the U of M's MFA program and up and moved. I was fairly miserable the first year and thought many times about going home to Seattle. Then one day a door opened. I took a yoga class. I wanted to get more flexible because I was a runner; I had no idea I was heading into a revolution of self. Gradually, very gradually, I settled in to the program and over time stopped trying so hard to be something or be someone I was supposed to be and began being more of me.   So there I was getting to know me, remembering me, doing what I loved, and sure enough, a million doors opened.

So that’s what Intuitive Writing is. That’s the long answer anyway.  If you just trust that the words know where they need to go and you stick with them, you’ll remember everything you love and know exactly where to go from there.

YOUR PROMPT

what do you love?