1 | ON FEELING
I’m not going to write to you about writing this week. I’m going to encourage you to feel things, without which, there’s no writing anyway.
Put on your favorite pissed-off song or sad tune and spontaneously choreograph a dance to it in the kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed, in the dark, with your eyes sometimes closed. Maybe you need to swirl gently, maybe you need to slap the countertops, I don’t know. But your limbs will tell their own stories that your mind can’t even fathom.
Find a comfortable chair or couch, and sit your butt down. (Tuck your phone into a drawer first, or stow it in the other room.) Just exist for a moment; you don’t have to call it meditation. Just exist. The honest emotion will find you there. It might swell over you like waves, it might crawl towards your toes like the edges of the surf, it might seem like drowning. Immerse yourself in this watery space, and try to trust its insights. You’ll come up for air and touch down on solid ground when you’re ready, but the water needs its turn.
Make a whole scene out of dinner. What kind of nourishment do you need right now? Is it sweet, is it soft, is it salty and acidic? Call the plate a poem.
Rip something up as fast and ragged as you can — a sheet of paper, a napkin, an old shirt you never wear anyway. Doesn’t that feel right? Try to read the shreds like tea leaves to tell you what you must do next.
2 | A QUOTE TO KEEP CLOSE
In lieu of a typical writing-related quote this week, let’s just look at these words from Prentis Hemphill and remember that we must not be afraid to feel, and that writing and storytelling, when we’re ready, might be an emotional outlet.
3 | A PROMPT YOU CAN USE
Try at least one in the activities in section #1 first. It will probably land you with some words and ideas. Time to journal. If you’re not clear where to start, start here: “I feel…”