Writing with Rox WEEKLY—What (CLICHES) are you grateful for?

Okie dokie all yee Morning Pages folks out there... WHAT ARE YOU GRATEFUL FOR?

Are you grateful for cliches like being grateful on Thanksgiving?  I for one sure am!
Are you grateful for cliche writerly things (Morning Pages)?  Me,

        I'm grate    ful       for         e.              e.         cu
                                                                                      mmin             g
                                                                                                                        s
who wrote:
        
    "may I be I" is the only prayer— 
not may I be great or good 
or beautiful or wise or strong. 
 
To be nobody-but-yourself—in a world 
which is doing its best, night and day, 
to make you everybody else—means 
to fight the hardest battle 
which any human being can fight; 
and never stop fighting.

I'm grateful for quotes.
I'm also grateful for short jokes and puns, especially when least expected or not in the mood to be silly and you just can't help but laugh.

What else?

What 3 line jokes are you grateful for? (Please share them as I am most grateful for them)
I'm also grateful for 3-count dances like the waltz and the lindy-hop
And my son's baby teeth: They're so cute and disarming. I'm grateful for that.
I'm grateful I can be disarmed these days.

I'm really grateful that I can laugh at a lot of things and that I laugh a lot. I'm also extremely grateful for my hilarious Too Cute Face who does amazing impersonations and for being, well, too cute; for my dry quick witted ex-husband for being a best friend, an unsung genius, and a dad who loves his son from the depths of his being. I'm grateful that he is making a movie only "loosely based" on the facts of his life and I stand behind it 100% percent.


What do you want to be grateful for?
I wish i was more grateful for the sunrise since I see it now three days of the week when I take Jude to the bus.

So, here and now, what are you grateful for? Don't worry about telling me how grateful you are for friends and family and air and food and all the obvious stuff we can assume to be true from our own lives UNLESS you wish to show me the details of that gratitude by taking me there as though I am right there being grateful with you... (what kind of food? Where are you with family and friends? Doing what on your vacation, where?)

(I mean sure, I'm grateful for my breath and yoga and kirtan and experiencing the bliss of the moment if and when I can ever get myself calm and slow enough to simply be there in it, in the simple always giving space between the breath, where infinity is—a garden of peace with ever blowing stardust and floating hearts, where we remember the fluid, simple, real life lessons we learned in the womb and that we all long to get back to)...

In other words, we know. We're remember. We've all been in a womb.


Maybe you have something else to say about gratitude too. Maybe you are not grateful for anything and are tired of thinking you should be grateful. I know I get tired of feeling like I oughta be grateful for my curly hair or my "good" health or whatever else is anything just short of "bad."


Lastly I am grateful that you are reading this right here and now instead of the 14000 other cliche things about gratitude you could be reading...

   and I'll be really grateful to read yours.... xoxoxoxo


PS: There's still time to get grateful with me and the gals at the upcoming Wild Writing Women! Winter Solstice WILD WOMEN WRITING RETREAT, SATURDAY DECEMBER 14, 2014, 10AM-4PM. We'll gather to write and remember our fire and sing our light on the page. Plus all the usual community, warm nourishing potluck joy, silly and sweetness. Register soon. Fills fast. $75

Writing with Rox WEEKLY—Bye Bye Google!

This morning I was watching one of my favorite psychodrama people talk about two of my favorite subjects: creativity and consciousness raising, the link between them and how as a species we may be moving out of the Age of Knowledge (what with everything we ever need to know available at the click of a thought) and into the Imagination Age. His talk gave me the lift I forgot I needed being so lost lately in my heavy head knowledge. "Heavy" because the coming of cold and dark makes me crazy in so many ways...and I fall for my mind's trappings when it comes to the suffering I create by  believing that my critics, both real and imagined, are right. That yes, it's true: I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm full of b.s. I'm faking it and now everyone knows. Everyone knows I don't really know a ding dang thing, that I'm just a flower child with a flowery dream. Busted. Go to jail; go directly to jail; do not pass Go; do not collect $200. Well, egg on my face. Big Shit. Life is hard and then you die. Cliches are even more right than me.

  "Lifted" because there is still time and room to imagine (and create) this world into higher consciousness, one that values creativity, spontaneity, love, abundance, lovingkindness, authenticity, community, etc,  over fear, greed, competition, irony, anxiety, and needless suffering. In such a world, self criticism is never on the radar; why would you want to assault the one person who is always actively loving you? IN such a world, you are an awesome mom (or dad) or son (or daughter) or poet, or gardner or whatever you are just by being fully your authentic self, even if that means admitting you have a really hard time being your authentic self.

As I watched and had my heart lifted, I wondered, hmmmm, how can I somehow turn this talk into this week's prompt? How can I turn this into something to write about and/or inspire writing? Well... I couldn't. So I put it aside and ran for the bus to get to Jude; I was so absorbed in watching my psychodrama guy that I almost missed the bus, but I made it on time and then forgot all about it.

 Then, on the way to Circus school, Jude started in, as he will, about his creation story, which apparently began way before he was in my tummy. No, it was actually the dust of a red Lego that I somehow swallowed that carried him from this former life into the one inside my tummy. You see, Mama, I was once in Lego Land, a red Lego, where some family took me home and played with me until a giant fan blew my out of the window until I was a spec of dust. But guess what? Before that I was in the Amazon. Yeah, I was in the jungle. (I am forgetting what incarnation he was during that time). And before that, guess what? I was in this underground world below my school. There was a battle and I was part of it and then I went into space and landed in the Amazon...

I think he could've spun on and on like that. He seems to be heavily into the Imagination Age. And according to my psychodrama guy, this is where we need to be (with a little help from our higher consciousness, that is). So.

WHAT DOES YOUR IMAGINATION SHOW YOU TODAY?
HAVE YOU HUGGED YOUR IMAGINATION TODAY?
IT'S 10 PM; DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR IMAGINATION IS?
SERIOUSLY NOW...tune into the imagination show you have within you all the time... where does it go on the page? Follow the light...   Wanna post and share? YES, you can be anonymous. Just post and click "anonymous" and no one in their wildest imagination would ever know it was you.... xoxoxo



AND Get Wildly Imaginative you Wild Writing Women! Winter Solstice WILD WOMEN WRITING RETREAT, SATURDAY DECEMBER 14, 2014, 10AM-4PM. We'll gather to write and remember our fire and sing our light on the page. Plus all the usual community, warm nourishing potluck joy, silly and sweetness. Register soon. Fills fast. $75