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 ūüôā

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 ūüôā ¬†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!




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!






xylo tree branches

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.


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!



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.


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.


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.


Why wait?



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?


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!







“We are so sorry to inform you. ¬†The talent you thought you had, well, it’s not going to get you where you want to go.”

How many times have we feared hearing that sentence or something similar?  Everyone has talents.  They may not be mainstream, billionaire-making but they always have an impact.   Talents are genuine expressions of us.  They carry gold within in them.  When expressed they are as impactful as a Golden Globe or other form of trophy.


My mother couldn’t carry a tune. ¬†Her pastries filled out home with delectable scents. ¬†The love coming from the kitchen softened many a blow. ¬†Having children of my own I realized how talented she was as I struggled to make her cream puffs and peanut brittle, finally giving up for my stand-by oatmeal cookies. ¬†She dressed us in handmade sweaters as we grew. ¬†When mohair was the rage she knitted a lined coat for herself and a mini dress for me. ¬†The compliments and ‘where did you find that’ made me smile and proud to say ‘my mom made it’. ¬†Americas Got Talent would have given her 4 X’s. ¬†Her talents weren’t made for TV they were made for us.

There were many in my family with talents. ¬†Brother’s on athletic scholarships, sister’s painting skills that brought extra money, and a father who could weave a story but none of them were rich by most standards. ¬†With each of the talents they held their self-esteem grew and difficulties faced found solutions.

My early talent was seeing the wonder in each person and¬†urging them to further development. ¬†I was the cheerleader with a cohesive voice. ¬†It wasn’t the “rah, rah, rah, sit down, stand up, fight, fight, fight’ cheer. ¬†It was more the development cheer. ¬†Helping each person to find a way our of their dilemma. ¬†I would do this through storytelling and basic psychology. ¬†It was natural for me. ¬†It was just there every time I needed it. ¬†My ability to garden and landscape each of my homes was a natural talent, dancing, ¬†laughing, and creating large gatherings grew stronger as I grew. ¬† I didn’t need to attend an awards ceremony. ¬†I knew that my talents brought pleasure to myself and others. ¬†Seeing their relief, smiles, and enjoyment were enough reward for me. ¬†Sitting in my gardens basking in the scents and sounds brought me my Golden Globe.

I do have a confession to make. ¬†I picked my words before I started as most of the challenge participants did. ¬†I trusted there would be something to write about each. ¬†Recently I joined a writing group and claimed that I was a writer, not just a storyteller but a writer. ¬†I went through the ‘normal’ resistance and soon found myself penning a book. ¬†Last night we were placed on the hot seat. ¬†We were asked to read 400-700 word passage from our book. ¬†I struggled with two different sections mightily. ¬†I also could not find a natural stopping point of 700 words so I went with 921. ¬†I wasn’t nervous preparing I thought. ¬†Apparently I was very nervous as I nearly dropped my phone when my turn came. ¬†I read my passage. ¬†I stumbled over a few words… good indication to find replacements.. and then it ended. ¬†There was dead silence. ¬†No X’s. ¬†Nothing. ¬†I am not new to competition. ¬†I am not new to performing or giving speeches in front of large crowds. ¬†I am new to reading my art to others for feedback. ¬†The nervousness, the personal critiquing, and the fear of “we are sorry but ….” ¬†creeped up higher and higher. ¬†It was so loud that I did not write the rest of the evening. ¬†Every possible smallness piece came flying up into my face. ¬†I could pace the room or I could use my talents and sort through all my emotions. ¬†It wasn’t easy. ¬†Again this morning I was still churning around in my head to quit writing. ¬†It is not easy to set yourself up to exposure. ¬†Resistance as I wrote recently is futile when you are being asked to change your patterns and beliefs. ¬†I am a writer and I will meet resistance every step of the way.

It doesn’t matter ¬†what talent¬†is being challenged and asked to be embraced deeper. ¬†The confusion and resistance come. ¬†The end result is always better and leads to a deeper sense of self and accomplishment. ¬†Accomplishment isn’t bright lights and awards. ¬†Accomplishment is a composure of love that runs counter to your wordy head. ¬†It is an acceptance of the multi-dimensional wealth deep within you. ¬†It is the great seal of self approval that propels every one of us towards the ultimate trophies – self love and acceptance. ¬†Those two trophies have the power to change the world.

So remember YOU’VE GOT TALENT!



This word held a very specific meaning for me.

1re¬∑sis¬∑tance noun \ri-ňązis-t…ôn(t)s\ : refusal to accept something new or different

: effort made to stop or to fight against someone or something

: the ability to prevent something from having an effect


Resistance came first into my life as an effort made to stop or fight against many things. ¬†As a young school girl, I fought against the demands of the nuns to change myself into their perception of a good Catholic girl. ¬†It was a constant for me to question the dogma. I also resisted their inference that there was only one way into heaven. ¬†Upon transferring to public school, I resisted those who thought I wasn’t popular or pretty enough to join their group. ¬†I helped others resist those who excluded them. ¬†I also resisted abuse mentally and physically. ¬†This meaning for resistance carried through civil rights, equal rights, and anti-war demonstrations. ¬†It figured prominently through most of my life for others and myself.

When the Borg entered my space I immediately noticed myself react to their famous saying, “Resistance is Futile”. ¬†My battle cry was resurrected! ¬†They were wrong we would not be assimilated! ¬†Dr. Who had been shown the effects of resistance and they would soon learn its effects.

Eventually I was introduced to the effects of resistance to accepting something new or different. ¬†It was a strange encounter. ¬†For the majority of my life I had been busy resisting oppression, abuse, and assimilation and now I had to re-exam my reaction to resistance. ¬†My first encounter to writing was met with strong resistance. ¬†Working through it allowed me to see how resistance figured very prominently in everyone’s life. ¬†Resistance to love, intimacy, a new job, a deeper understanding of who we are, and changing our minds to allow for another point of view are all daily examples of resistance.

As I began to make a simple examination of this new aspect of resistance, I noticed that fear was a central figure.  Fear appeared as the motivator for resisting the acceptance of something new or different.  Once the fear was faced and found to be unnecessary resistance disappeared and acceptance ensured.  Facing the fear was the key.

Resistance to oppression brought fear but not as the motivator.  It seemed that integrity and compassion were the generators for the resistance and fear fed the ability to continue the resistance.  I am sure there are many more emotions that may be the leaders to the resistance depending on what was being fought or needed to be stopped.

It is a very thin line between the different aspects of resistance.  The line often gets blurred and confusion can set in.  Often times we think we are being oppressed when we are actually only being asked to open to a different point of view.  There are times when the change we are being asked to make is really oppression and should be fought.  It takes a sense of self and our soul, a backseat ego, and honesty to decipher the difference.

Courage to fight the oppressor comes when we know our truth, believe in ourselves, and hold a compassionate heart.  Courage to open to change requires the same.  Wisdom reveals the nuance.