This is me, writing at Dagny’s last Friday morning. I was
rewarding myself for a productive time at the keyboard by the time 8:30 am
rolled around I had published two blog posts, done research and got the kids
successfully off to school. Kimberly and I had discussed meeting at this, my
favorite spot, as a reward.
She was thinking just a time of friendly conversation. I was
thinking of it as a reward.
You can see what I do there: I pile up books and notebooks
and read snatches of essays and poems. I sketch, I practice writing, I sip tea or
coffee and on this occasion, I used the lure of that slab of cinnamon coffee
cake to insure my focus stayed in place for a respectable amount of time.
I was deep in creative mode when Kimberly appeared in front
of me, bearing a teapot filled with roses from her garden. I think I said,
“You’re here!” and I know my face did that wide eyed, lit up face when I saw
her happily approach with her nature goodies. “I’m so glad you made it!”
She could only stay briefly, which I knew, but it is like
those snippets of time with friends are worth huge swaths of time with
acquaintences or people who just don’t live on the same wavelength as you do.
I was back in deep contemplative mode when I heard someone tapping on the
window. The girls eating at the tables on the sidewalk were pointing to
Kimberly, who had her camera focused on me. She was pantomiming “write!” and
when I finally got what she wanted, I started to write.
I dipped my toe back into the language stream and joy came
out the other side.
It has lasted almost forty-eight hours now.
Alice Walker was with me as was Virginia Woolf and Natalie
Goldberg popped into my sanctuary as well. I listened to a doula talking to a
not-showing-yet pregnant couple. I watched the usual eclectic gang gather
outside so they could smoke and socialize as well as drink coffee or tea or as
the day marches forward, beer or wine.
I waved goodbye to Kimberly and smiled back into my words.
This is me, writing. And now that is YOU, creating. Take a deep breath and create for five minutes. Paint, sketch, write, meditate, call a beloved on the telephone, collage, sing, clap your hands, drum, gaze into the eyes of your cat.
Almond Blossoms Look Like Snow but They Feel More Like Heaven.
Their faces started popping up on facebook sometime last
week.
I began to see photos of my friends in the orchards
surrounding Bakersfield. These trees are in a lovely place in the bloom process
which comes every Spring. It happens quickly. If you are a day late, the
blossoms are all on the ground and then they very quickly return to the earth:
fragrant dust whose appearance lives in the memory of those who take the time
to notice.
This blossoming season makes me happy to live in Kern
County.
I wanted to take new photos of flowering trees but more importantly, I
wanted a new experience of sitting with solely and soulfully with myself among
the almond trees.
It was just before sunset last Monday when the wind
whispered in my ear, “Hey, Julie, everything is under control at home. Steal
away, drive west….so I did. I left my home in Upper La Cresta in Bakersfield
seeking what I heard were some incredible blossoms in orchards along Snow Road.
I forget sometimes how far out that road goes but when I got to a place that slightly resembled a dead
end I knew I was onto something sacred.
It was a less smooth, almost dirt road I drove onto when I noticed
a few other cars parked alongside the
trees.
Word was spreading. Other photographers were here. Some had
special reflecting and light equipment. One was doing a shoot with a mother,
father and toddler. I didn’t get too close to them, but how I wished I had done
that with my children when they were little.
I thought of bringing my daughter out there, but here it is
Friday and we haven’t had time. I know the magical moment has passed right as
the wildflowers start covering our grassy hills for a different sort of
enchantment.
The bloom and fall of almond blossoms has a short window of time to enter into its
secret safe haven. The scent coming to me from my sun open roof was compelling
me to stop driving and and just be.
“Stop and step inside!” The blossoms whispered.
My purple ballet flat wearing feet stepped onto a carpet of
softness, a sea of almond flower blossom petals lining the muddy ground with
what looked, at first glance, like snow.
It was better than snow. It was warm and smells of rebirth and new
beginnings.
It smells like waking up and being well after a long time
not being well.
It smells like the wedding bouquet before it is taken on its
journey down the aisle.
It smells like the first day of kindergarten, the last day
of high school and the first day you moved into your dorm room freshman year.
I looked down the rows and rows of white and saw a tree,
resting on her side.
This was a sight I had never seen: one fallen tree among
many trees still standing.
I walked toward her soundlessly in the sacred hush of this
sanctuary. I put my books and my portable lap desk at her feet and
kneeled. Her branches reached to me, defiantly
blooming like all the other trees.
“See my beauty,” she said, her voice soft.
I breathed her floral scent deep into my belly. “I see your
beauty, I smell your beauty. Your beauty is reaching into me.”
It felt like she, the tree, was asking me to carry her
beauty with me.
I have to tell you, I love nature and I love experiences
like this, but I normally do not feel as if I am having a conversation with a
dying tree.
This is a moment that will live on in me and in my words.
I rested myself underneath her, scooting as much of me as
possible underneath her tilted branches.
The ground was wet and muddy underneath the blossom blanket, but I
didn’t care about getting slightly cold and damp, this tree was allowing me to
be her witness.
Nothing would stop me from living such a privilege she
offered me.
I closed my eyes and prayed.
I felt the sun dappling my face in different areas as it
moved toward the horizon. I waited and prayed wordlessly. It was at a point
beyond language, beyond translation, beyond understanding.
As darkness began to fall I sat up and wrote what I could.
Only a few sentences could speak through my pencil. I prayer-wrote thanksgiving
to the absent orchard owner. I
prayer-wrote profound gratitude for the tree herself for inviting me into such
an intimate time in her life.
I stepped out of the orchard a different woman than the one
who stepped into the orchard less than
an hour earlier.
Transformation doesn’t have to be a lengthy process, it only
has to be one met willingly with an open heart and a listening ear.
My final gratitude is for myself, for offering myself to
both the will and the listening.
What calls to you today? How will you respond?
= = =
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity
Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since
1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director,
Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the
StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield.
Did
you enjoy this essay? Receive emails directly to your
inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion
Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost)
every week day. Subscribe here now -
Go up the hill: you will find friends in the meadow, waiting for you.
Sunday: Today I have a date to go hiking with a group of
friends as well as a few friends-to-be invited by the other hikers.
I first did this as an adult only a few years ago. A mixed,
eclectic group of people with children and without stretching from our twenties
to our fifties for the adults and from eight years old through teen –spread out
across the Mill Creek Trail in the Kern Canyon. Michelle and I decided to
recreate this trip but with more people this time around.
We want to celebrate our time together with VDAY
Bakersfield, 2013. This is an annual
event where women gather to raise awareness and money to end violence against
women and girls. Naturally it creates a unique and if it is done right,
unforgettable and lasting bond. Michelle and I became friends several years ago
because of VDay and we both know we will continue to be close friends only if
we connect in between runs of the annual show/awareness/fundraiser.
Hiking is a great way to connect and reconnect. No matter
your age, you may participate. Your fitness level doesn’t entirely matter
because there will be others similarly matched.
I am actually not completely afraid I will bring up the rear
unless I do it by choice.
I am taking my son, Samuel, who has autism again, even though he
melted down last time, pretty severely.
Samuel Revisits a Triumph from Earlier Years: Rockcliming for an Audience of Appreciative Onlookers
This year I have taken several measures to prevent a
recurrence and I feel confident all the memories we make will be positive.
After all, he remembers the fun from last time at this point, not the melt
down. This is a mark of good friends and lots of optimism in the air.
Samuel asks me questions from the bedroom. “What friends are
you taking?” he asks, preparing himself for who he will meet on the trail and
on the drive into the canyon. He acts as if I am the center of this expedition.
In a way I am.
The time to worry about the hike is over. The time to put
sunscreen on my face and my stuff in the car is here.
===
This is the hiking group that assembled: 18 humans + two dogs (My left arm is covering the "Most Difficult" warning! Photo by Tish Gamez
Thursday: I found this beginning of a blog post from last Sunday and I
wanted to add a post script: we had a great time Sunday. Eighteen people
gathered and hiked the trail which we thought was fairly easy before we started
but we discovered upon returning to our cars it was graded as “Most Difficult”.
I lagged behind to take photos and to experience the trail
alone with the others and Samuel was the trailblazer, leading us all. He gained
confidence, I gained freedom as I trusted the other hikers to be substitute
caretakers. He felt loved as did I. I made new friends and as we sat eating
lunch on an enormous boulder, I noticed this wasn’t just a random boulder, it
was also a grinding rock from the Yokutz people who lived here years ago.
Lunch atop a Yokutz Grinding Stone, Deep in the Kern Canyon
Mike, one of our most able and enthusiastic hikers added, after I exclaimed my noticing, “And
look, they must have sat in a circle as they worked.”
The photos of the day show me with a smile on my face, over
and over again. Big, goofy, satisfied smiles lit up my face as I strode along
the path, happy as a slow-flying lark, to borrow a term from my Mother.
My friends and I have decided we will take monthly hikes
from now on and maybe, possibly, do a couple camping weekends. We are building
a loving community as we walk and discover new places. We are blessed.
I couldn't stop smiling. Hiking + My son + My friends + My spontaneous walking stick = Heaven on Earth
"Why Write?" a question many bloggers grapple with daily.
I have written to the writing
prompt, “Why write?” quite a few times. My answers usually hum a similar tune.
Today, though, I am thinking a bit more strategically. Here’s what I mean: the
prompt I was given from my blogging mini-challenge from Kathryn C. Lang gives me a
completely different spin on my usual “why write”….
What
do you want from your writing?
I want self
acceptance from my writing.
Believe it or not, that was the
first response to bubble up from my gut.
I want my writing to offer me relentless self-acceptance.
Whoa.
What on earth does
that mean?
A-ha moment response to the question, "What do you want from your writing?" mini -challenge
For decades I have been told I am a gifted writer.
I have been asked, “Where can I buy your books?” Well, I am in anthologies, I
do have poems on greeting cards, I am in poetry anthologies but as for just me?
I have a couple dusty ebooks before the days of Kindle and Nook….
I need to stop giving my power both as a writer and
as a human being over to people who I have the inaccurate and paranoid fear
might want to target me if I “let my success get out of hand.” I am writing
this with some sense of stream of consciousness, so I am not putting much a
veil between what I am typing and my inner critic.
What you read is what I wrote, in the moment. See?
I am apologizing because I have yet to offer myself
relentless and radical self acceptance.
Before I call this the magic key and come up with
some terrific blog headlines such as “The Seven Jealously Guarded Secrets to
Finally Following Your Dreams of Becoming a Best Selling Author” I need to
percolate on this for a bit. My “percolating” usually mean, well, always means…
writing a bit more. It means walking, thinking, perhaps painting and perhaps
even having sex to get the physical self acceptance going, so I may not be able
to go further in this one posting.
In fact I am going to practice radical and
relentless self acceptance by saying YES to my process and asking you to please
return for part two.
In the meantime, care to join me in writing along
this mini-challenge theme?
What
do you want from your writing?
= = =
Do You Know What Famous Hollywood Bar I amm Writing In?
This is my thirty first post (of 31!) for the January Ultimate Blog Challenge.
Watch here for challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing
Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.
Mixed Media: Emily Dickinson portrait with book page and leaf - 2012, Julie Jordan Scott
The more I
get to know Emily Dickinson, the more I love her. I have been an admirer for
quite a few years now, but my word-love has flourished since I visited her home
in Amherst Massachusetts. Not once, not twice, but three times so far and I
think another trip there is long overdue. It isn’t as if travel to Western
Massachusetts is convenient: I live in Bakersfield, California, its more that
visiting her home is like visiting Mecca.
Not only do
I visit her home, I take in the stomping grounds of other literary figures.
My visit,
though, does not begin until I have paid due homage to Emily.
So many
people think of her as an odd recluse who had agoraphobia among other mental
illnesses. Perhaps she did fight some disease but we don’t know for certain.
There are so many books of research about her poems, I am sure we could find a
researcher or several right now who would argue for all sorts of illnesses and
quirks.
What I feel
most strongly about is this: Emily Dickinson was a one of a kind. She lived
with great passion, continually learning via the news of the day from both her
family and newspapers and magazines. She enjoyed baking for the neighborhood
children – she would lower Ginger cookies in a basket to them as they waited
below her bedroom window. She was a botanist – spending hours in
"The Thing with Feathers" inspired by Emily Dickinson's poetry. Mixed Media, Julie Jordan Scott, 2013
the garden
drawing flora and communing with the trees.
Yes, she
sought refuge in solitude.
She spoke
to people behind a curtain.
She also
corresponded with many and grew friendships via her entertaining letters.
What
impresses me most about her is how the mystery surrounding her continues to
invite inquiry AND the more I know of her the more I want to know. The more I
know of her the more I want to create in her honor. The more I know the more I
want to share with others.
I have just
finished a piece called “The Thing with Feathers” based on this stanza of hers,
one of her famous oft quoted ones:
"Hope" is
the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
= = =
This is me, Julie Jordan Scott, writing in my notebook on the lawn of the house where Emily lived in Amherst, Massachusetts
I have two open spots in my creative life coaching practice. If you
are interested in discovering how creative life coaching might help you
in stepping into your direction and staying the course, send me an email
to : juliejordanscott@gmail.com or give me a call or text at
661.444.2735
Watch here for challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing
Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.
My daughter Emma took this when illustrating her perfect day to her friends.
I am being wooed by the smell of pinon wood, giving me
warmth and sensual pleasure from my fireplace. This morning after I delivered
my children to their respective schools I thought, “It is rainy. It is cold, I
want to feel nurtured as I sit down to write,” so I stopped at my local
hardware store and bought firewood.
It always feels slightly decadent to have a fire in the
daytime, especially when I am the only one here to enjoy it, but ever since
Emma had her choir Christmas party at our house, I realize I am very lucky to
have this fireplace, this room I am sitting in, this home.
Sometimes amidst all my inner ramblings and rushing I forget
that: how lucky I am to have this exact home in this precise moment.
My fire is telling me to ask you to slow down, as you are
reading.
In a simple inhale and exhale, think, “I am so blessed….” Or
if you prefer, use lucky or grateful or privileged… and just stay with that
thought for another few inhales and exhales, repeating your thought again.
“I am so grateful….”
As you return to the rest of your life, remember this,
especially when you hear your thoughts move to “I am so behind!” or “I have so
much to get done!” or “I’ll never get this done, be who I want to do, reach my
goals…” absolutely anything, take a breath: a simple inhale and exhale.
Breathe through five or more rounds of “I am so privileged….
I am so blessed… I am so grateful….” Don’t
even think of it as another “fix-it tool”, just allow it to be what it is for
you.
“I am so privileged…. I am so blessed… I am so lucky….I am so grateful….”
I would be especially blessed if you play with this and let
me know what happens.
This is my twenty-fourth post (of 31!) for the January Ultimate Blog Challenge.
Watch here for challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing
Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.
My choice may appear countercultural or perhaps I should
just say “my choice would
be odd for most people.” I was buzzing along, making
great progress on my project “BridgeAbove2012” when I decided to shift gears.
I decided to stop working on that project and spend an hour “language
free” visiting a park a few blocks from my home, in quiet.
I had felt myself riding the crest of the frenetic high zone
and while it felt good in one respect, I also knew it has a tendency to burn me
out. Changing gears was necessary for my creative process and continued
progress as well as for my emotional and mental peace.
The hour of silence started with rain, of all things.
Bakersfield gets a whopping (feel my tongue in cheek) six
inches of rain a year. Why the sky elected to rain exactly when I wanted some
outdoor contemplative time, I am not sure. I decided to lean back in the front
seat of my car and look up at the rain falling on the moonroof.
I decided to enjoy these moments from a sensual, sensory
immersion and not have any concern about the shape or context of my quiet time.
This choice may also be seen by some as countercultural.
Clickety clack smattering smack of rain on the rooftop was,
if it is possible, a waking lullaby. My breath slowed. I felt the cars go by,
larger cars actually made my car rock a bit as they zoomed by, completely
unaware of the magical silence very close by their minds thinking and plotting
their next destination.
I smelled the invitation of the outdoors. Slightly wet, an
autumn smell of returning to the Earth managed to make its way to my “inside
the car” contemplation. It was after I basked in those scents that I realized
the scents were like a curling finger with come hither eyes attached.
The rain had stopped.
Stepping into the soft soil might as well have been stepping
into a spa or stepping into a chapel with sunlight streaming through stained
glass windows.
The next twenty minutes were both expansive and intimate.
My friend Sheila would be delighted to know mixed into those
experiences were taking
a photo that included the scat of an unknown animal and
the web of a caterpillar.
I returned to my home office with a completely different
vibe emanating from my core: I felt full, I felt grounded, I felt a whole new
feeling of accomplishment.
I felt ready to take on the rest of my project from a wiser,
more rested perspective rather than that frenetic pace that was brewing before
I went out. I
don’t need to create momentum and the rumbling rattling of taking
off like an airplane, I can switch it up.
It is when I take the time to be quiet my highest quality
work is born.
Preface: Five ideas for how to use quotes to enhance your
life and writing are listed
below the quotes.
“Two girls discover the secret of life in a sudden line of
poetry.”
Denise Levertov
“Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer,
rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one's life.” Kate Chopin
"Poetry might be defined as the clear expression of
mixed feelings."
W.H. Auden
“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or
strange that self may prove to be.”
May Sarton
“The first duty of a human being is to assume the right
relationship to society -- more briefly, to find your real job, and do it.” Charlotte
Perkins Gilman
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild
and precious life?"
Mary Oliver
"Poetry is what gets lost in translation."
Robert Frost
"I shut my eyes and all the world is dead. I lift my eyes and all is born again."
Sylvia Plath
"The old woman I shall become is very different than the woman I am now. Another I is beginning."
George Sand
"We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each
other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it."
Rainer Maria Rilke
“Your silence will not protect you.”
Audre Lorde
“It was my destiny to love and say goodbye."
Pablo Neruda
“Reverence the highest, have patience with the lowest. Let
this day's performance of the meanest duty be thy religion. Are the stars too
distant, pick up the pebble that lies at thy feet, and from it learn the all.” - Margaret Fuller
"Poetry is what happens when nothing else can."
Charles Bukowski
“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
George Eliot
“What would happen if
one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would split open.”
Muriel Rukeyser
“Life offers you a thousand chances... all you
have to do is take one.” Frances Mayes
Five Ways to Use these Quotes (and Others)
Use the quote to ask a question of yourself.
Free write your response to the question.
Do a search about the writer of the quote.
Perhaps there are names here you don’t know. If a quote stirs you, there is a
reason. Choose to read a book by the speaker instead of what you are normally
reading.
Use the quote as a meditation or writing prompt.
Pick the key words and meditate upon them and then, later in the day, write. OR
pick the key words and write upon them. Meditate upon them later.
Make an index card of the quote and post it on
your computer monitor to consider throughout the day.
Use a photo editor and add the quote to a
favorite photo. Use that as your computer’s wallpaper. Notice what happens as
the quote begins to infiltrate your everyday life.
This is my twelfth post (of 31!) for the October Ultimate Blog Challenge.
Watch here for challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing
Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.
Julie Jordan Scott
has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator
and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award
winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother
Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam
champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS &
this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this
unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she
finds the passion & the interest.
Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your
inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the
Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and
poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -
You know that restless, you’re sitting at your desk or
trying to get your household chores done but every move feels like it is being
swished around with a bunch of molasses?
I had that earlier tonight and remembered a thought I had
this morning. I said then I wanted to watch the day become night. I wanted to
focus on that transition in addition to the sunrise which I know exceptionally
well.
I told my family, “I’ll be back in 15 minutes!” and I went
three blocks from my home to the Panorama Bluffs where there are benches and
paths and trees and views. My notebook was with me and I brought along some art
inspiration I’ve been toying with as well as my phone for its camera and whew.
In just fifteen minutes I was able to experience more
creativity than I knew was
possible.
I wrote a list of today’s wins, today’s “couldas” (missed
opportunities primarily due to procrastination) and tomorrow’s “I wills” – the beginnings
of my possibility list for tomorrow.
I watched joggers and walkers and chatted with a Mom and her
curly haired toddler with deep brown eyes who was riding on a fancy
car-stroller toy and desperately wanted to tell me… something he was pointing
to was very significant.
I wrote a theater inspired sunset haiku:
Light's memory fades
Nightfall moves down left, just... so
Ponytail points east
And I headed home after fifteen extravagantly stretched
minutes.
How did I accomplish such serenity in this tiny little
mini-retreat on the bluffs?
A pure intention guided me ever since I wrote it
this morning: I wanted to try writing sunset haikus as a counterpoint to my
regular sunrise haiku practice.
I put my mini-retreat into a timed container.
Yes, I literally timed myself.
I asked permission of myself first and then my
family. I was very specific, “Is it fine with you if I go up to the bluffs for
fifteen minutes? I want to write and take photos.” They are used to me both writing and taking
photos so it seemed 100% reasonable.
I took advantage of every single moment I was
there. Not a single second was wasted thinking negative thoughts or critiquing
anything. I was open and willing to squeeze the marrow out of the bones of
these fifteen minutes I invested.
When my timer went off, I packed up and headed
home. I honored my commitment to my family and myself. It was so gorgeous, I
wanted to stay longer but… I didn’t.
These fifteen minutes were transformative. I was able to
consciously survey my day in a short, non-judgmental and constructive way. I
was able to experience joy, beauty and hope.
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity
Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since
1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director,
Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the
StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield.
Did
you enjoy this essay? Receive emails directly to your
inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion
Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost)
every week day. Subscribe here now -
School is back in session so who knows where you might find
me now!
I know, I know – these are silly photos and true photos as
well. Granted, I more than likely will not be riding any motorcycles in the
near future, but I will be feeling the delight of freedom, the joy of
connecting along my journey that I sometimes miss when I have my perpetual
entourage of kidlets with me.
Please don’t get me wrong: I adore each and all of my three
children AND when the time comes for them to return to school and me to return
to my life work, we are all content in a different way than when we are
together.
I will be continuing to offer teleclasses, e-courses and in
October I plan another “Big, Bad-Ass” program in the tradition of my wildly successful
42 Days of Passionate Prosperity and 42 Days of Writing with Passion from the
old days at 5passions.com.
Are you ready to stretch your wings and soar beyond where you've been until now?
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity
Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since
1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director,
Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the
StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield.
Did
you enjoy this essay? Receive emails directly to your
inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion
Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost)
every week day. Subscribe here now -
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