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!

 

Uka, Until, Undecided

Bounding amidst his nine siblings his gangly gate endeared me and I knew instantly he was mine.  He ran between my son and I begging for recognition.  As the others tumbled over each other continuing their play he ignored them instead he demanded our attention as he gamboled past.

I remember that day when I finally decided another dog just had to grace my life again.  There were actually two black mixed puppies that clambered towards us.  I could not see bringing them both but my heart could have been changed by one look in my son’s eyes.  He didn’t want to push it I guess because we only took home one.  My Uka a gordon setter, golden retriever mistake of natural love begot under the guise of the open gate.

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It didn’t take me long to find a name for this powerful puppy.  As a child I had an imaginary friend from my original planet who came to visit and help me when I was unable to understand the world around me.  Seeing the delight and understanding in his eyes I knew there was only one name for him, Uka, not Yukon!  Many a vet form had to be corrected.  I never gave up informing them of the correct spelling and pronunciation.

Within the first 4 months of his life his nickname of ‘devil dog’ appeared.  Reaching my waist, however did that happen, his penchant of constantly standing in front of you barking drove many a friend crazy.  He didn’t want out nor more food he wanted you to listen to him.  Yep, listen to him.  He would stand facing you and just look you dead straight in the eyes.  Eventually we created a language between each other.  I used some commands in public yet at home alone we seldom spoke unless I was irritated.  Mind you not irritated at him but at the day or myself.  His size seriously took me by surprise.  My son often told the story of the day we went to find our dog.  As we departed the car we were greeted by his father, a beautiful strong gordon setter that stood at my waist insisting on being petted and fussed over.  Apparently I remarked about his size and then promptly forgot my surprise upon meeting all 9 puppies.

Uka proved difficult to corral and totally a free spirit and my not being a strong alpha I had to go into training.  We lived for his first year on 40 wide open acres.  He loved chasing the deer and elk across the fields.  Bringing home his prized catches required boundaries.  Leave the lovely gifts on the porch, please.

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The  greatest joy he brought for me were all the nights we spent alone together.  Sipping a glass of something and he laying his head in my lap brought a deep connection to us.  So often I wasn’t sure if he loved me or my son and finally realized his heart filled upon seeing us both.  Uka would ride in the manual stick truck with my son patiently waiting for him to coordinate the shift/gas sequence.  One particular time as they drove off the property, Uka riding shotgun, and my son trying desperately to find the clutch rhythm, I burst out laughing as on the 3rd attempt Uka turned his head towards him and gave a huge sigh.  Chuckles still come each time I remember.

Until I was faced with the death of my son I had no idea how very important my Devil Dog would be to me.  Although Uka visibly missed my son, heading to the door each time the truck pulled in, he never left my side.  He accepted the change to city life from the open expanse of his earlier days.  He adjusted to his new sibling, Solas, a bounding ball of golden retriever fluff.  He never gave up his position of the protector of my heart.  Knowing exactly where my heart was each day he responded with is big brown eyes peering deeply into my soul reminding me he would always be here.  His head found my lap, his paws nudged me out of the tears, and his constant barking at nothing reminded me that life was asking me to join it.

Uka stayed a part of my life for 13 years.  He was old for a large dog with severe hip-dysplasia.  A disease now rampant in dogs that guarantees a painful deterioration of their hips.  He compensated for the disease by building up his shoulders.  When those began to break down unable to hold up his slipping hips I had to make a decision.  I was so undecided.   I knew that Uka was my last strong connection to my son.  I knew Uka had brought so much comfort to me.  I knew that by saying good-bye to him I was saying good-bye to my son.

Spending many a night alone with him we decided it was time for him to leave my side.  Solas was old enough to take his place.  It was also time to finally place a closure to this journey of our lives.  The decision was made for April 15.  The night before I couldn’t find him, fearing the worst, I calmly called him one more time.  Waiting in the dark for a black dog can lead to many a surprise.  Coming towards me, wagging his tail in triumph, he graced me with one more present.  He had finally caught a SQUIRREL!  Determined to bring it inside for safe keeping the argument ensued.  After all these years of good training my alpha role won out.  Placing the squirrel carefully in a towel Uka had decided was worthy of his prize, I walked into the garage placing it out of reach of intruders.

Uka has never left my side.  He was there when I had to say good-bye to Solas 3 years later.  He runs the hills I hike.  A tiny piece of his final prize is held in my medicine bag.

Once your heart has been deeply touched there is no turning back.  Whether it is a dog, cat, child, person allow your heart to be awakened.  Your open heart will draw more connections leading to a life fully lived.

U

M is for Memories and Moving on

balance

It seems that in times of loss we are not allowed to sit for long.  Within a short time life starts to pull us forward requiring us to make decisions of movement.  There is a need to fight against this request.  It is almost imperative.  Giving into the forward movement too quickly removes opportunities that will come slamming back.  Rushing headlong back into life can negate all that has been lost.  Refusing to move back into life can reward the insanity of denial.  It is a very delicate balance.

We are gifted with gems, perks if you will, to support us in hitting the right moment to move into the fray of life.  We are not lost forever.  Signs and maps are present.  They often must be dusted off or discovered by seeming accident but they are none-the-less there for the asking.

What are some of these gems, signs, or maps?  They are our memories.  The memory of the first kiss, long overdue birth, the blue ribbon or first home.  Those times of laughter, joy and sorrow.  The first argument although filled with confusing signals is still a memory and useful in our forward journey.  The burnt dinner, experienced as embarrassment, fills your heart with laughter recalling the gulped mouthful.  In the first moments memories almost seem painful but they are opportunities for growth.  They heal your heart when it is broken.  They give you permission to release the anger.  They remind you of the gift of life and its call to return.  They help you to release the attached identity.  They remind you that all is not lost.  They tell you, if you care to listen, what is precious, valuable and rebuilding.

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Memories were never meant for lingering in the past.  They were meant to be a map to discovering you and the value of your life.  If you look closely you can see there are not traps or handcuffs built into memories.  They are of our own making.  Look closely, you will see what I mean.  Memories give us permission to move on.  They actually open the door to moving on.  The key is, if we let them speak their purpose and welcome their wisdom, moving back into life is refreshing.  The freshness of a new discovered aspect of you blossoms in a forward motion.  Watch Nature.  It doesn’t move backwards in its memory of growth.  It strikes out brave knowing and trusting the map of its memory.

All life moves forward.  It pauses, reflects, grows, bursts, and then dies to return again.  We seldom give permission to the one facing loss whether it is a life of a loved one, job, position, or sock to move through the natural rhythm of life.  Pushing before it is spring kills the first blooms.  While staying too long in the cave molds life.  Allowing the natural flow, nurturing the tiny buds, quenching the thirst ensures life returns to bloom again.

Life doesn’t just happen.  It is created.  What do you want to create after the storm?  Can you use your memories to guide you to your next deeper journey in life?  Are you willing to move from the cave heeding the call of your battered heart?  Are you willing to allow your memories to soften the jagged edges trusting the openness of your bruised heart to welcome moving on into a stronger brilliant life?

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I took the chance.  I know there is a brilliance to my life that flows nourishing my jagged heart reminding me that love comes always.  My memories have never faded.  They are refreshed by my willingness to embrace life and live again.

 

No loss is too great to give up our memories and not move on.

 

 

M

Kites

It is finally early spring!   What was the first outside activity we all had great fun with after a long winter?

How often do we allow our child-like innocence expression?  Think of someone you admire and marvel do they relish their innocence?  Allowing themselves to soar through life with abandonment to the simple joys present daily?  Even with our children are we allowing them time to express delight at all the stages of their life?  Are we pushing them too hard to success early?  Can they make a kite from scratch?  Can you?  The simple art of kite making and flying is the ability to use our imagination.  Creating joy through the perfection of artistic freedom.  It isn’t about creating a perfect kite.  No, it is about creating through expression of self.  When was the last time you made something very simple from scratch?

Kites remind us of freedom and delight.  Today seeing kites is rare.  Why?  Advancement does not replace spontaneity, joy, childhood, and delightful expression in freedom.  A very simple life brings deep joy, healing, and wisdom.

Take time today and go fly your kite!

K

 

 

Enclosure …

All about me is the hustle and bustle of discovery, the request for insight, the clamoring for more and yet I find myself incased today in clouds. Thick clouds that hold, not suffocate that welcome not introspection but inclusion and blanket the trees in an ethereal busyness.

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The busyness isn’t the hustle bustle that lives outside this space. It is the business of creation. The creation of what is to come. A recipe sits dangling from the outstretched arms of the birch moving precariously in anticipation of what might be hidden within the clouds. The pines stand as sentinels to the meandering of the soup witness to the regal ingredients as they march one by one towards their destination. Each ingredient carries its key to the final creation. There is a dab of whispering, a 1/4 cup of anticipation, never too much for that could spoil the final product, 1 cup of inspiration lightly warmed, 2 cups of wisdom sifted twice, 1/2 cup of joy, 2/3 cup of ancestral juice, and 2 Tbs. of valor. The rowan holds out its cauldron for each to find their place within. Slowly the Spirit of the Clouds begins to swirl the ingredients singing ever so softly lulling them into collaboration. Placing them within the enclosure what is thought to be the door is slowly closed.

Raven alights upon the enclosure standing guard awaiting direction. Soon he is joined by a flicker and more ravens. The murder begin to dance upon the enclosure to the beat of flicker as she moves first down one side and then the other. Abruptly the murder departs leaving the enclosure unguarded. From the distance a parting of the clouds is detected. It appears that the parting is moving through the clouds approaching the enclosure. Stillness comes as what breath is present leaves. Squirrel takes a gallant leap towards the enclosure and misses landing abruptly just beneath. In dazed realization, squirrel scurries off. The parting now reaches out towards the enclosure. Wrapping it deep within itself it removes it from the rowan branches. Gliding forward I watch from the corner of my eye, wondering what brings this cauldron to me. Taking my seat upon the floor I notice that the parting is not a stranger. No this parting I recognize. I have spent many a day, many an hour, and dare I say many a minute with this parting. What I think to be a parting is really my soul bringing back to me the recipe that has been deep within and is not a stranger to me. A recipe that warms and delights.

With a squeal of glee, I accept this cauldron of creation brought to me by my soul. I honor this gift through ritual and whisper my love of thanks.

E