Tag … You’re It ~ Writing about Writing

Having committed to participating in the Blog Tagging ~ Writing about Writing event, I needed to tag 3 other writers. I immediately thought of Jenn PoniatowskiLynn Pollaine Miclea, and Michele Truhlik.  They all agreed to participate!  Please enjoy their musings!

First up, Jenn Poniatowski!

Jenn is a writer, full-time mom and an everyday shaman. She most recently completed an amazing nine month period of study in Robin Rice’s program, “Healing with Presence and Beauty,” learning deeply about the soul and ways to access wholeness. Her for10506944_467885923314147_5687932639669656999_omal education is in the field of marine biology and you’ll find her love of all things of the sea to flavor her writing. Some of Jenn’s favorite stories in mythology come from ancient Norse and Celtic sources. For more, you are invited to visit and subscribe to her blog/website at FairyMotherMedicineWoman. First chapters of works in progress the Sea Witch and Morrigan’s Apprentice are posted there! Also find Jenn’s essay on new motherhood, Isabel, published in Igniting Hearts, Inspiring Hope, book published by Stories of Women and her contributing articles at www.wild-woman.com

Enjoy her post here Blog Tag

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Next up ~ Michele Truhlik!

Michele is a writer, blogger and small business entrepreneur.   Previously an owner of an advertising agency and a bar, she currently has a dog-sMichele Truhlik & Picasso (2)itting business and a jewelry business and is much happier being out of the corporate world. Following her calling she is currently studying as an Animal Chaplain/Pet Shaman and will be officially credentialed and ordained in 2015. She has been rescuing and adopting greyhounds since 1999 and has been owned by 8 greyhounds. You can find her blogging about dogs and life at angelsbark.wordpress.com. For more about Michele, see her AboutMe page.

Enjoy her post!  http://angelsbark.wordpress.com/2014/08/18/writing-about-writing/

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My finally participant is Lynn Pollaine Miclea!

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Having recently retired and discovering newly-found free time, Lynn has unveiled and developed a passion for writing. She has written numerous poems and short stories, and she is currently in the process of publishing her first book. Lynn currently lives in the Los Angeles area with her husband and two small dogs.

For more information about Lynn, please visit her blog at www.lynnpuff.wordpress.com

A Big Thanks to Jenn, Michele, & Lynn for being willing participants!  Tag-On 🙂

Writing about writing …

I was invited to participate in a Blog Tagging event. Since my writing has really slowed down I thought this would be a great motivator. It did more than that 🙂

I thank Sora Garrett at The Shine Connection  for her piece on Writing about Writing (click the Shine Connection link), the invite, and the nudge to return to my writing.

What are you currently working on?

A book, can you believe it?  I never thought I would be writing a book.  I was always the oOld fashioned vintage typewriterne who saw that talent, that ability in others and prompted them to be the writers.  Apparently I have a book or two in me waiting to be written.  I also have a “journal” on my website www.tericonnolly.com that I do post in pretty regularly. It is where I share my deep philosophical and spiritual musings. I really enjoy sharing that part of me.

How does your work differ from others in the same genre?

My work differs because I share very intimate, naked pieces of me. I share my vulnerability mixed with very dry humor.  I am so very new to all of this “writing” that I really don’t know my genre 🙂  Which takes me to the next question…

Why do you write what you write?

I write because I was always a storyteller verbally sharing anecdotes of life as examples of being human and to help others. I hesitated to use writing to express those stories mainly because I never thought of myself as a writer ~ storytellers don’t write I thought. Now I know writers are storytellers. I have also found that writing connects me to a higher deeper essence of myself that expresses through me. I learn just as much from my writing as others have expressed they have learned. Writing is now a part of me. I have fun and feel energized by the process especially completing a piece.

Describe your writing process.

My writing process is very simple. I sit at the computer, ask for a subject, and then get out of the way of the higher deeper essence that expresses through me. When I am done writing I am always amazed at what has been written!!  I started my book by looking at a naked urn sitting on the patio at the home I was renting.  I picked up my pencil and words just tumbled out.  This process is the same for everything I have written.  I do get ‘blocked’ and find nothing flowing.  It is then that I have to write out deliberate thoughts unclogging the hollow bone.

 

Now I get to share 3 other writers with you!  Stay tuned you are going to love them!

 

Zzzzz the last but not least

This commitment for the month of April to blog came out of the blue for me.  A real beginner at the writing genre and calling myself a writer, I felt the #BloggingAtoZChallenge would be a perfect start for me.  It was a challenge to say the least.  Today is our last letter and our last challenge day.  It is a bittersweet moment.  I have been introduced to so many amazing bloggers.  The visitors to my blog have widened my world.  Thank you!!  To those who have completed this challenge We Rock!!

file0001969012862ZZZZzzzzz, the sound of someone sleeping.  Oh the sweet disturbing confirmation of no one being present to us.  It is a conundrum.  Do we stop the misery, our misery, and wake them from their slumber?  Do we nudge just ever so slightly in hopes of their own awakening?  Perhaps the pillow will dull the sensations but alas we are disappointed.  Why is the only symbol for someone sleeping ZZZzzzz?  Is it  significant as the last letter of the alphabet?

This word, if we seriously call it that, is so representative of life events that can alter lives.  It destroys relationships.  It is not exclusive.  Holds no prejudice, lacks humor (well for some) and has been known to arrive at decibels off the richter scale.

 

file0001104767429It has a softer side.  The faint sound of our babies sleeping.  Their soft murmur brings us twinges of a deep love.  As we gaze upon the face of someone sleeping there is a tenderness, a sense of departure, and wishfulness.  We innately know they have gone somewhere without us.  They can’t be followed.  Watching we long to engage in our journey.  The journey that awaits us when we sleep.  Upon all our sleeping faces is the events of our nightly journeys.

 

For so many, the sounds emitted, reflect a language unlike no other and we wish they would just shut-up and keep it to themselves.

Adeiu, Farewell, Buenas Noches, I hope your time spent here with me has not led to ZZZZZzzzzz.  Thank you for visiting.  I will continue writing.  It seems I have a knack.

Z

 

Yesterday

The Beatles came at the beginning of my formative years.  I have older siblings so there was other music introduced to me before the Beatles.  I liked some of their earlier stuff but never quite got into the screaming, hormonal condition of so many fans.  Previously music was not so much about the lyrics for me as it was about the notes.  Playing an instrument in school gave me the opportunity to feel into the music itself.  There were lots of songs I sang around the house, singing parts with mumbled sounds when the words escaped me, dancing with the record covers in my hands so the words were close, and then there was one song whose phrases just stuck.

“Yesterday ”

All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday……

There’s a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

I knew this was about a love gone wrong but that is not what I heard or what struck me deepest.  I was 12.  The concept of love that had come and gone was non-existent.  I hadn’t been bitten yet!  It was the concept of ‘Yesterday’.  How it was a specific time in space.  It wasn’t just about memories.  It marked events.  It could mark you.  It carried a “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger sign.  It became a rite of passage for me.  “Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away.”  Yet there was another aspect to Yesterday.  It could change today and tomorrow.  It could return to haunt you or drive you further.  It was something to be reckoned.  It could stop you.  You could get stuck in it.

Allowing yesterday to determine your identity left you stuck and only partial of the self you were.  It does become a shadow, casting out the light of today, the mist of tomorrow, holding you captive.  There is an art to turning yesterday into today.  It isn’t an art only open to lyricists, painters, and writers.  Oh no, it is available to all who want to live to the fullest possible self.

As others fell deeper in love with John, Paul, and George I fell to pondering their lyrics and those of others.  I took to analyzing all songwriters as my world grew.  What were they doing with these lyrics?  Where they writing with a higher energy bringing metaphors and symbols to waken me, stop me in my tracks, push and pull me when I grew tired, or were they just singing what I felt deep inside.  There were some genres I did not resonate with no matter how often I listened.  Some music struck me but the words repulsed me.  It was those who wrote with the same cadence of essence as “Yesterday”.  The same mysticism in the lyrics of that song appeared in other songwriters.  It was those songs that stuck a chord deep within me.  A chord that cautioned me on miring myself deeper when I should be moving forward.  Years later I can still feel that mark of time, that essence of those simple lyrics whenever it is played.

Music played its secondary roll of fun, stages, and road trips all through my life as it does for all of us.  I can dance for hours, sing at the top of my lungs completely out of tune, joyous in the moment every time I hear music.  It brings back days of youth, special occasions, love won and lost but it is the mysticism that holds my soul.  It is the timelessness, the universality and connectedness.

Awake your soul!  Let Yesterday be yesterday!

Y

 

 

 

Xylophone

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Once upon a time in a world far, far away there lived a tiny xylophone.  His world was filled with many trees and special rocks.  No one spoke and not a sound was made.  Every day he woke and looked up through the trees to the bright blue sky.  He hoped that one day he would find another tiny xylophone just like him.  Days and weeks passed still no one came.  The silence sat heavy upon his ears.

Early one morning a limb fell from the tall oak above him nearly hitting him. Angered by this sudden disruption the rocks gathered around the limb edging closer to tiny Xylo.  Unable to move he tried desperately to make himself  tinier than he could ever remember.  Fearing he would be hurt by the rocks anger he kept very still.  Barely breathing and hoping soon someone would come find him.

Xylophone

Days flowed into nights for Xylo.  He watched closely as the rocks and fallen limb danced in confrontation.  Unable to find an escape from them he decided to settle down and watch.  The daily bickering created smaller lengths of wood from the limb.  There was much chaos that created sounds that both repelled and drew him closer.  Fearing he would be injured in the altercations Xylo hung back.  The rocks continued their assault on the limb breaking more pieces and severing them into smaller pieces.  As night grew dark Xylo fell sleepy, unable to keep his eyes open, sighing he settled into his corner.

The rocks drawing strength from their bravery advanced for a final battle hoping to push the limb completely out of their area.  Xylo exhausted from fear closed his eyes and slept.  The scuffling of the rocks lulled him deeper.  Swaying with the noise he noticed a tiny tingling sound joining the scuffling.  Unable to determine its origin, he slept on swaying to the rhythm of the sounds, heading into dreamland.  He dreamt he was a mighty xylophone tall as the trees above him and solid as the rocks.  He knew his destiny in the dream.  Grasping for anything to make this dream real he determined that no longer would he be frightened by anything that surrounded him.  He determined that when he woke up he would grow to be the best xylophone he could ever imagine and then some.

What dreams are you reluctant to grasp and live?  Go out and exceed your expectations!

X

Wisdom

Wisdom is not learned from a book. Wisdom is revealed by our willingness to crack out of our limitations.

Although I will go on from these two simple sentences this is really all that needs to be written about Wisdom.

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We come into this world with an inordinate amount of wisdom.  Slowly overtime we forget how to access this wisdom.  As we move further into our lives we begin to believe that it is only through learning and experience that our wisdom develops.  We take courses on ancient philosophy in hopes of developing a storage box of knowledge.  This knowledge, we surmise, will bring to us the wisdom necessary to have long, productive, and happy lives.  We add the assumption that receiving an A+ in the course work will ensure the production of enlightened wisdom.  It is important to read and learn about all the aspects of our life.  It is equally important to not rely on just books to develop our wisdom.

The real wisdom we are seeking is deep within us just waiting for the beginning of a crack.  A very simple crack that allows for a glimmer of light to shine into the darkness.  The dark recesses we have been reluctant to peak into out of fear.  These areas don’t hold boogie men or demons.  They hold an ancient and knowing piece of us.  A piece that once accessed brings forth more life.  This life refuels and gifts us.  It doesn’t run out.  It isn’t expensive.  It is rich with an understanding of purpose, calm, and a love that soothes our aches.

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Wisdom comes into us daily.  It is the sunshine that enters our homes nudging us to begin anew.  It is the laughter filled moment.  Even those moments you wished hadn’t come bring wisdom.  A wisdom that nurtures deeper than we are conscious as it works.

It is our reluctance to allow for self guidance that keeps us from reaching into our wisdom.  Our belief that wisdom comes from outside hampers growth and peace.  Inside each of us is the wisdom needed to fulfill our day.  It takes a very small crack in our dogma, patterns, and definitions to allow for the wisdom to breach the dam.  Wisdom doesn’t disappear.  It doesn’t run dry.  It is infinite and always present.  We are ancient spiritual beings carrying deep within us the ability to reach out far into the stars and bring forth wisdom.  It isn’t held from us only to be shared in our elder years.  It is present every day.

Wisdom is blessed and enriched with age.  The years of experiencing the rhythm of life amplifies the wisdom.  In our elder years we have finally obtained ‘permission’ to release the dogma of society and allow our natural state expression.  For some this permission does not come until their call home.  When their death walk begins it leaves precious time for expression and engagement.

Study, learn, and open to the deepness within you to bring forth the wisdom you hold.  Use your wisdom to nourish and create the life you desire.  Allow for the ancient knowledge you carry to gift and fill the world.

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Why wait?

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Visions

Oh we all have them.  We follow them till they dim.  We ignore them till they smack us.  We so want to live them.  They come in all sizes and colors.  Some of them hit the headlines while some just make someone incredibly happy.  I know I have lived many.  It is my understanding their importance is downplayed.  They feed and nurture.  What happens when they are ignored?

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At the mere age of 4 I had a vision of living in a small traveling vehicle visiting all the people I loved.  It was an odd vision since I could not reach the pedals and everyone I loved lived with me.  It was a vision that I clamored to accomplish.  Totally making no sense to my parents, they figured I had an active imagination coupled with a limited english vocabulary.  My mother was tasked with growing my verbal skills and I was given a new coloring book.  Not to be distracted I took my favorite doll and traveled the alleyways scaring my mother to death.  I eventually gave the vision up for another.

Soon I had a vision of becoming the flying nun, traveling the world, healing the sick, teaching and visiting all the people I loved.  My world had broaden to include several years of parochial school and a larger group of people I loved.  This vision moved forward towards accomplishment until one summer day.  My mother and I were inside the convent collecting books for the next fall term.  I happened to spy the living arrangements of the dear nuns.  Upon deeper reflection I gave the vision of the flying nun vocation to the discard pile.

As life would have it, I was faced with a new arena of experiences that required a new vision.  Having recently enrolled in public school the world according to my surroundings changed.  I was engulfed by strangers trying desperately to fit into already established groups.   My first true realization, what I had tried to curtail for others in elementary school the pain of being left out and misunderstood, was a common experience now.   I wasn’t a stranger to the feeling.  We have all had times when we felt left out.  The difference was how constant it became in the new school.   A vision began to grow for me.  I wanted to help others not feel left out and misunderstood.  I wanted everyone to have the same opportunities.  This time I could actually begin to live my vision.  I helped with the civil rights movement, women’s rights, and lowering the voting age.  I typed, handed out leaflets, demonstrated, and walked petitions through neighborhoods.   I was finally actively pursuing my vision.  I saw death, defeat, destruction and success.  I grew up and began to realize the true nature of my visions.  I became aware.  I also had to become real.

1795624_559499050823795_1078788267_nVisions are inspiration from our deepest soul space.  They are signposts upon our journey here.  They are not standard and one size fits all.  Visions incorporate all the wisdom we carry inside.

Having visions allow us to thrive in a world we think has gone mad.  Being a visionary doesn’t require amazing feats.  It only requires willingness to allow your true nature to speak.  A vision of world peace is available to all of us.  When we take the time to examine our visions, changing within us those things curtailing our limiting beliefs, they come alive and flourish.

My simple vision at the age of 4 of traveling and visiting those I love is happening right now.  I can now reach the pedals and my friends are across the globe.  My vision of the flying nun was adjusted.  I don’t wear a habit but I do help those who are ill and in need of company, traveling when necessary.   I continue to help to right injustices, protect our planet, and my favorite, support others in seeing and living their visions.

It took time for me to grow and crack open the world I had hidden deep within me.  I continue to crack and grow and thrive.  My visions develop and express themselves. I tweak them if needed but never change their original voice.  Most importantly I follow them with the same thrill of a 4 year-old.  I will go through the Black Hole one day even if only in my Book.

Happy Visioning!  Make them large and wonderful the world needs you!

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