Writing with Rox WEEKLY—Crying Time

About five years ago I was going through a really hard time and I invited a Buddhist healer to come over and help me process some of the grief I was overwhelmed by. I didn't know what I expected, other than I knew I needed to be held in the arms of unconditional love. Without knowing a thing about this healer, somehow I knew this would be the right person. Someone who could offer me a good old dose of lovingkindness, no matter how much "wrong" I'd done or pain I caused, someone who would stay with me, look me in the eye, provide witnessing and holding to me in a time of big grief. We did not talk much. I simply shared my grief, my guilt, my regrets, and my endless tears. And that was it. We sat on my couch that beautiful spring afternoon and nothing had to be done other than that.

 One of the things I remember her saying to me when I likely apologized for my uncontrollable sobbing was something to the effect of, "You know what? If we lived in a functional world, people would be walking down the street everyday crying their eyes out."

I have quoted her more times than I can imagine.

But surely I knew this already, didn't I? Didn't I?

Inevitably in most of my classes and workshops, at some point everyone will cry. And inevitably, there are countless apologies when it happens. Usually someone will get emotional when reading an emotional piece of writing that we have written on the spot and will pause, apologize, and then move through it. This is when I (and the group) will remind whoever is reading that it is okay to cry, that writing is supposed to do this sometimes, that we are feeling beings and as writers it's important to write about the truth of the human experience. Not to mention it makes pretty awesome writing and a great gift for everyone listening.

Of course on some days, on many days, we also have tears of laughter.

That said, as the "one in charge,"  I try really hard not to cry when I am reading my own work because for God Sakes someone has to keep it together around here. I have no problem with my tears when others are reading, but as we all know, it's hard to be vulnerable. Yesterday in Wednesday Writers was one of my crying days (thank you, Wednesday Writers!!!). We were all writing a quick Intuitive Writing response to the prompt "I Write Because..." and I encouraged them to go and go without stopping or thinking for about seven minutes. Classic Intuitive Writing. Anyway. Here's what I had to say:

I write because I'm sorry. Because I have done things that have hurt others and I want to apologize. I write because I want to relive the hurtful things I've done enough times so that I can have insight and apology and reflection and feel the gravity of those hurtful things so I can commit to not doing those hurtful things. I write because I feel like my body alone cannot contain the hurt and I write to be forgiven  even though when I write for forgiveness I start out as absolutely unforgivable. 

I write because I am human and to be human is to be sorry and to make mistakes, even when we are conscious of making them. I write because I am not the parent I always want to be and i want to rewrite myself until I get it write... or right, I should say. I write because the point is there is no ever getting it perfectly right! Otherwise we'd never stop writing or living or doing yoga because what happens when we get writing just right? We stop writing. And we stop parenting. And we stop doing yoga. And we stop being a good girlfriend. So I write as a practice to get it as right or truthful or integrity as I can and failing that I write to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry written in a little card with a drawing of "Mama Sticky Hair Monster" like the monster we read about every night in our Bedtime for Buddha stories about the sticky hair monster who is so frightened of his pain sometimes that all he knows how to do is be mean until he eventually gets it as close to right as he can and all is forgiven. 


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One Spot Left! Wild Woman Writing Retreat Saturday June 14!

Dear Sisters!

Ready to meet your Wild on the page? In life? Is now the time? Is now the time? Is now the time?

Ready to embrace your wild sensuous, summer, sassy, sanguine, soft, soulful, singing, sailing, secretive, solitary, swaying, sheshee-swinging, spirited, seashell, something, sunshiney, shabooming self  in the sweet sanctuary of your sacred sisterhood writing community? Wild is for everyone! Come find yours. Is now the time?

WILD WOMAN WRITING SUMMER SOLSTICE

Saturday June 14, 2014 10am-4pm $75

Real food, real women, real stories, real fun, real wild, real you

 

Writing with Rox WEEKLY—Greetings from the South!

"How Y'all Doin?!"

I love this. This is what they offer in passing here in Austin, Texas. It is the equivalent to the Minnesota "Oh, hi there!" or back home, way back home in LA, "Sup Dude?"

In Seattle, while I was there anyway, I believe it was "How's it goin?"

"How y'all doing?" is so disarming. I don't quite know how to respond; I long to retort with the same musicality, but somehow I fall flat with my west coast "he-ey... good!"

Here in Austin, visiting my BFF since 8th grade, Pieceee and I have our own language. We greet each other with one long "hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii," which has at least a dozen other implications other than hello.

"Are you having fun here, Pieceee?" Paula'll ask.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" I'll answer. I'm having lots of fun.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" she'll say. She's glad.

Home in Minneapolis, Two Cute Face and I combine our terms of endearment with the sound of a dog howl when we greet each other. It has morphed over the years, but currently he is Rooo and I am Grarra. Hello is a bit more complicated to explain.

"Oooooooh," Ma said to me last year when visiting, overhearing our affectionate exchanges, "You have a language with this one, too?"

This is true. Admittedly, I have a unique language among many of my friends. And to each and all, there is of course, a very long story.

How do they greet you where you're from? How do you reply? What is your made-up language with friends? In your household? With SO's?  What is the story behind it?