Julie Unplugged

Insta-Refreshed: How to Move from Stale to Passionate Just Like....

The best metaphor I can think of is a dish drainer when the dishes are removed and just shallow puddles of water sit, stale, in the bottom of the plastic dish under the drainer.

I am not sure what I felt most like, though: the stale water, the plastic drainer or perhaps the empty slats  devoid of purpose until the next freshly-washed dishes come along.

It was Mom-Schlep time plus I knew it was a rushing time. My children needed to be places, I needed to be places, I was being pulled and tweaked and tugged and underneath it I felt lifeless. Achy. Tired. Any excuse I could come up with, I was ready to spew and use as an excuse for my lack of lively usual me self.

What came next took me by surprise: almost as soon as I sat down with my cast mates, I felt better.

It was like someone gave me an injection of anti-ache or anti-whine.

My face was no longer grimacing, it was smiling.

I was no longer looking for excuses, I was looking for the next opportunity to interact.

When I reviewed yesterday today, something important popped into the equation:

Feeling yucky + negative anticipation + love for the art + participating in art = insta-improvement.

I doubt any of my cast mates had an inkling of “not feeling well” from me. “You powered right through that second run!” Laurie told me as I left.

I was more surprised, still, when I attended my second rehearsal for the night and sang myself into my usual musical blissed out self. It was midnight when I took off my “at the theater” cloak. I continued to float around energetically until I finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

Waking up and getting moving for the early morning Mom Schlep was no piece of cake, but I managed to get Emma’s chicken salad lunch made (along with chips and cookies) and Samuel dressed and out the door in less than fifteen minutes.

Earlier this week I wrote, “I tried to hate theater in 2011.”

I never managed to hate it completely. Much like my jaunts down the road of my Christian Religion, I continue to love Christ, it is some of the actions of the people who are vocal, unloving Christians that turn me away from conventional church.

My deep love and passionate desire to be involved with theater also invites eventual hurt, not from the art or the craft itself, but by disappointments from the people involved. It is a collaborative art, it is impossible to create alone, and yet – those very people you adored on one project may soon wear out their welcome in your periphery by show number twelve.

My job, I realize this morning, is to focus on the love, passion and active creativity. Allow the minor annoyances and sandpaper personalities to fall by the wayside. I also learned this week that sometimes those annoying people instantly improve, too, with an affirmative smile or a hand, held out for connection.

It is the opinion that causes the rift. Holding on to the hurt creates more misunderstandings.

I am still looking forward to a continued theater sabbatical after these two projects are complete, yet I know when I complete them I will feel less like a dish drainer and more like… a bouquet of flowers? A treasure chest of images? A well filled with champagne?

I’ll let go of the metaphor and simply continue to live with love, with passion, with hope, with my smile of connection paving the way.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people's creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in Fall, 2016 and beyond.   To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.   Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.   Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter:   and on Periscope for writing prompt, tips and inspiration daily created to ignite your artistic rebirth.   Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)   Follow on Instagram  And naturally, on Pinterest, too!      © 2015

  

© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott

 

A Deep Breath of Nothing: When Writing Sprints Become Anti-Writing Sprints #row80 #teamsprinty

Most weekdays at 11 AM you will find me sitting at my keyboard, typing the words as quickly as they skitter out of the ethers into my hands. Passion flows and thank goodness, no one can stop it.

This tells you my Week Daily #ROW80 Round of WordsHourlong Word-Sprint has begun and nothing and I mean nothing will stop me from writing.

Even today, when writing seemed like the most remote exercise imaginable.

I managed to write over 1,000 words of which, these are slightly usable.

I appreciate how they captured what I am feeling.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I think I wasn’t supposed to write today.

I think I was supposed to sit someplace and listen.

Sometimes language gets the best of me.

Sometimes my to-do lists get the best of me.

Sometimes what other people think gets the best of me.

I think I wasn’t supposed to write today.

I think I was supposed to lie down and shut my eyes.

Sometimes I ask questions filled with expectation.

Sometimes I answer questions as if I know what I am talking about.

I think I wasn’t supposed to write today.

I think I was supposed to cuddle with my dogs and smile.

Sometimes I think I know better.

Sometimes I need a dose of buttery rice.

I think I wasn’t supposed to lecture myself today.

I think I was supposed to bathe in classical music.

Sometimes I don’t listen.

Sometimes it is best to hold your pencil still.

I think I wasn’t supposed to self-fault find today.

I think I will stand up and wave the white flag.

I hear cheering.

I see the idea spreading.

I take a deep breath of nothing.

   
  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

In This Seventh Squared Year: Reflections Written in Five Minutes... (and a few extra) #SOCSunday

I participate weekly in an experience called “Stream of Consciousness Sunday.”

This weekly event is hosted by Fadra at AllThingsFadra.com . I love it, just blathering for five minutes and then shouting DONE before posting without any polishing or thought.

Naturally this morning I have been wandering around in a “Ohmigawsh. It is this birthday. I’ve planned nothing. I don’t really want to do anything but I do want to do something.”

After my usual breakfast ritual with Samuel, I wrote this (and yes, it took a little bit more than five minutes)...

This Seven-Squared Year:

started on a high high high following the unexpectedly phenomenal Poetry Fire. Fantastic birthday celebration alone: solo soul retreat at Montano Del Oro. Perfect day, fancy meal I shared with a sea lion and the sunset over the ocean. Perfect.

I continued to punish myself and started to forgive myself. Finally.

I have tried to hate theater. It didn’t work. We are sort of on speaking terms, sort of kind of maybe once I feel more steady again I will show up again...(I am working on two shows now, but know after they close, I am walking away again. Not sure for how long, just feeling my way through it all.)

I have my first employer/employee relationship in years. Not contract/contractee or hired advisor or freelancer, but actual employer/employee. This was odd, uncomfortable, great, inspiring and an administrative headache. All for a four hour a week job!

I wrote a lot of words.

I traveled. More than usual. Flagstaff, the Northeast (twice), Dana Point (more than once, can’t remember exactly), the Bay Area twice.  I opted to skip a visit to Glen Ridge, where I grew up. Soon. I. Must.

I grieved. Again. Still.

I backed into a cave and pulled a faux fur blanket over my head. I am still there much of the time. I still have a problem getting poetry onto the page. This has literally never happened to me before. I trust it is for a reason and I trust it will end soon.

I saw Emma move into high school mode and became quite the cook in order to please her and remind her during the day, when we are separated, how much I love her.

I advocated for Samuel and many other unique children. I helped Samuel transition from one school to another. I assisted in his return back to Gen Ed, to win a Spelling Bee (yay Special Ed child winning a Gen Ed spelling bee!). I came alongside him as he won two other competitions at school. He still yells at me at least once every morning. I allow myself the space to cry on some mornings.

I was curious.

I made some new friends who stir me and soothe me.

I loved well and was loved well in return.

I lost several friends due to death and other things.

I hugged.

I opened my arms to emptiness.

I watched nothing, I heard silence.

I threw a tantrum on the road to learning to be my own champion. I told my therapist, “Maybe I am the one I have been waiting for all this time?”

I sewed curtains.

I discovered more compelling women artists.

I told more stories, even becoming a story slam champion. Twice.

I was disappointed, I was hurt. I was surprised, I was challenged, I knew a wobbly peace.

 

his was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post at AllThingsFadra.com
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

(My favorite photo from my seventh squared year, taken at Walden Pond. Where else?)

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott

~ Today, I Wrote a Poem (Thanks to Jo) ~

Just now, just moments ago, just as 2:00 struck, I stacked the final word among a pile of words from the ends of my fingertips. They dare call themselves a poem.

I am not sure if they will suffice as “poem” at all to anyone else.

But to me, writing them, finally feels like I should be on a television post game party proclaiming, “I’m going to Disneyland!” except for me I would say something like, “I am going to Ina Coolbrith Park” or “I am going to Trail of 100 Giants!” or “I am going to Dana Point” or “I am going to go hang out in Emily’s backyard!”

Today, I wrote a poem.

Finally.

Mind voice narrates

“I am trying to write”

But I am writing

My fingertips are striking

Letters, words are

Being vomited on the page

Slowly albeit a

Stench, an acrid leftover

Empty storm of belches

Left my gut in search

Of affirming words

Gaetano Donizatti is not it

How pretentious

It sounds & feels

So I read

Jo Carson’s words: they are ~

Completely earthy

Splattered with red soil

From graves dug deep

My work ~ her work

Is loving the world

Another beloved poem

Reminds me

Pairs of eyes wait

To read my unwritten

Words no matter how

Putrid how

Saccharine how

Tawdry how

Chirpy how

Maudlin

To borrow from

Jo, with a slight

Change:

“When I am dead, it will not matter

How hard those eyes stare at the page,

Press their ears to the ground,

Wait by their mailboxes.”

 

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

Clickety Clickety Clickety as Row, Row, Row the Words Continues ~ #ROW80 Check in - January 25

Something is definitely clicking as I continue on my various projects.

I am (finally!) getting to the point where I am enjoying my theater rehearsals again and my writing, thanks to sprinting, has had numbers that hit all the marks, even when I only have an hour to an hour and a half to write every day.

I am even getting in some accidental contemplative time by being observant of my surroundings and alert – ready to catch any a-ha’s as they come my way. These a-ha’s come in handy as a life coach writing life coachy style blog posts.

Speaking of Blogs, I am also participating in the SITS 31 Days to Build a Better Blog. I’ve been blogging since 2004 – so I am no stranger to blogging, but I have always treated my blogs rather informally.

As is true with all of my life, when I take something on with serious playfulness in mind …. it gets so sweet! One of the tasks today was to categorize many of my best/most popular blog posts. In doing this, I also found a lot of material to repurpose for my “And Then Came” series.

How I love it when goals come together, just like that!

Ironic to note: I have also been finding long lost items lately, which is also a delightful surprise. An old love, a missing book, a credit card, all those long forgotten blog post: all these things found their way back to me this week.

For anyone who has been reading here lately: I credit morning pages for all the progress. Tee hee hee hee.

Writing/Craft

Write: Morning Pages Daily: Still doing it! Mostly loving it! Don’t always get to it first thing in the morning but pretty darn close.

Daily: write 500 on my novel-in-progress. I am mostly over 500 words a day, so I am at least averaging 500 words. Interesting to see how this works. It is like having a relationship ~ I have sensed the ebbs and flows AND I like the pace… only 500 words a day in a quiet, gentle, hand holding as we walk around the lake sort of way instead of trying to outrun a tsunami while writing on my tablet!

Also, “And Then Came” series is moving right along as well. My goal was 500 words a day with that (and/or finding 500 words to repurpose for this series.) I am doing mostly repurposing and gleaning from my blogs ~ and probably a couple times a word “racking up the fresh words.) The important thing from my perspective is… practice practice practice!

(See also Under social media )- Post at least 5 blog posts weekly. I am doing better with this, yes, but not at the level I would like. I’m working on my attitude with the writing/posting I do. 

Read: Weekly ~ read One chapter each:

One craft book and one “fun to read” book (either fiction or Memoir).

Naturally, I finally found Naked, Drunk and Writing. It was on the book shelf where it should live! I have decided I will continue with one chapter weekly of it AND also spend small chunks of time with my new craft book by Alice LaPlante, The Making of a Story.

Still working on Sue Monk Kidd’s and Ann Kidd’s Memoir: Traveling with Pomegranates.  Sorry to report I haven’t read this one for about a week. I have the feeling when I do get back to it, I will sprint through it rapidly,

Creativity as a Practice: As I said above, I am enjoying rehearsals again, not resentful about them or waking up dreading them. I am doing double rehearsals so you would think I would be miserable but I’m not. At Marat Sade we’re learning stage combat and the like and wowza, I actually enjoy it.

I’ve also been playing with photo editing a bit (always fun!) and then, yes… I am leading a session of Writing Camp this week which always fires up other creative processes as well.

Social Media

Weekly: I’m getting better.

Biweekly: Yes, I have been posting Updates and continuing with SOCSunday and Wishcasting. SOCSunday became especially poignant today.

Daily: I have visited more than my original goal of “visiting no fewer than two or three of my fellow #ROW80”. I am a sponsor this round, so I am very conscious of commenting a lot of folks.

Finally, REMEMBER I WRITE BECAUSE I LOVE IT and… Word-love has the power to change the world. One sentence at a time, we are having a positive impact on this beloved planet.

It all starts when one-by-one we move our pencils….(I use pencil for any writing tool… pencil is the generic catch word I prefer!)

Abundant Word-Love to all my ROW80 Friends and Friends-to-be!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

If You Had Three More Minutes to Write ~ and that would be your last writing ever ~ What would you say?

Timed writing is one of my favorite methods for getting to the heart of whatever is rushing around in my brain, unattended.

This is one of the reasons we use timed writing as a tool in Writing Camp and it is also one of the tools I use myself with writing longer projects, like my novel project.

For longer timed writings I use the #wordmongering or #wordsprint hashtag on twitter. I have a group I write with every weekday at 11 AM Pacific time. We don't share our writing or anything like that, we just put our heads down and write. It can get competitive but what I like the most is it assists me in being very productive.

Today I had three leftover minutes so I asked myself this  question:

What would I write in three minutes if it was the last three minutes I had?

Before I share my words, please don't gag if it feels so cliche and trite you get nauseas. Sometimes the reasons cliches come into being is the truth within them.

Love. Love. I would write love.

How could I fit love into 180 seconds? I couldn’t possibly be eloquent and profound on a three minute speech on love, now could I? I could do 30 intro seconds, 120 seconds of solid teaching and then 30 seconds of conclusion: some brilliant a-ha about love everyone would be able to carry around in their back pocket like “Julie’s Love Proverb for the Planet.”

Why do I sit here, in my chair typing about what I would write and how I would write and how it would fit and how the accolades would pour, unending, when there is, in this scenario, less than one minute left.

I would take a photo of myself writing LOVE! I would text it, before the last moments were gone, so everyone who received it would know my love intimately.

But I bet I would forget someone. I don’t want them to be hurt so maybe it is just better to leave it unsaid, unspoken, unreceived unfelt.

Three minutes are up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott

Is it Image Distraction or Is It Image Awaken Attention? #CED2012 Check In

This photo completely distracted me earlier today.

I was participating in a Wordmongering writing sprint – thirty minutes to lower my head and write write write at full force and focus only… this photo kept calling me to look at it.

My own image, haunting me.

My own image, calling me to look closer.

I wonder if the image is calling me to look closer at me vis a vis the image?

I am not entirely sure and am somewhat hoping the answer will come to me tonight, as I dream.

I kept trying to add the quote to it, but I can not seem to get it to work with the texture. The image above has the quote, but not the texture.

Perhaps the photo wants my awake attention longer?

This is the first time I have played with textures like this ~ I like the outcome.

How about you?

This is my first 2012 Creative Every Day Check In. I've been under the weather lately: not with my physical health, but in dealing with my depression. Most people I interact with don't know of my depression.

Maybe the photo is speaking to me about that. Anyway - it is great to be checking in. I hope to hear from many of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Creative Life Coach Julie Jordan Scott is looking for a few passionate writers to join the first Virtual Writing Camp of 2012 starting Monday, January 23. Need to improve (& fall back in love) with your writing? Click here to check it out & become a camper in this dynamic writing adventure:WritingCampwithJJS.com

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

 

 

#ROW80 Check In Sunday, January 22: Even with Slacking Motivation, the Words are There.

I had the brilliant idea to count my numbers daily so when check in came, I could just write it in a flash but then I remembered: brilliant ideas mean nothing until you take action on them.

Wednesday, you wait and see: I will get this right! Just wait and see for yourself!

I have had a fairly good writing week. Sometimes it feels like everyone in my family, including my pets, have something against me getting my morning pages written. I have tried incorporating everyone into this practice.

>> See what I mean? That's my notebook. They are sitting on my legs as I write.>>>>>

It is working. Sort of. I have found I sometimes write the pages piece meal which isn’t as good as writing them all at once but better late (and piecemeal) than not at all works as far as writing practice goes.

My novel has taken on a very distinctive (and fun to write) flavor. My lead character who is unnamed right now, weird… I know… is developing quite a voice inside my head. I love how she inhabits my neighborhood. I find even though I have lived here for twenty years, I notice things differently now that it – the place – is practically the protagonist.

I want to work on a mock front cover, to inspire me. Perhaps that will be one of my mini-goals sorta kinda yeah, unnamed until its done goal.

My motivation continues to slack. My exercise was nearly non-existent. I wrote and posted more blog posts, but not with the verve of the past. I have been scooping up more photographic inspiration.

This made me very happy.

Perhaps I am turning a corner?

If I did, partial credit would have to go to #teamsprinty on twitter.

If you have an hour midday (11:00 pacific time, to be exact) you might want to join a faithful group of ROW80 writers who meet there and encourage each other to write bunches of words. I write so quickly I can oftentimes get all my goals met in that one hour, daily and when I don’t do it, my writing suffers.

Writing/Craft 

Write: Morning Pages Daily: Redevoted to the practice and going not perfectly, but well.

Other Writing:

Daily write 500 on my novel in progress. I have had days with 364 words and days with 775 words. I figure I am averaging 500 words/day.

 (See also Under social media )- Post at least 5 blog posts weekly. I am doing better with this, yes, but not at the level I would like. I’m working on my attitude with the writing/posting I do.

Read: Weekly ~ read One chapter each:

One craft book and one “fun to read” book (either fiction or Memoir).

I am enjoying my new craft book by Alice LaPlante, The Making of a Story. So indepth. It is like taking a writing course within a book.  

Still working on Sue Monk Kidd’s and Ann Kidd’s Memoir: Traveling with Pomegranates.

I knew I would enjoy this book but I absolutely love it. Really love it. I am discovering so many parallels between my life and the lives of this mother-daughter duo.

Creativity as a Practice: Photography wins the day. THANK GOD for being inspired to do some shooting alongside the rest of my life. This is my favorite, taken Saturday:

Social Media

Weekly: I’m getting better.

Biweekly: Yes, I have been posting Updates and continuing with SOCSunday and Wishcasting. SOCSunday became especially poignant today.

Daily: I have visited more than my original goal of “visiting no fewer than two or three of my fellow #ROW80”  as well as Ultimate Blog Challenge and #WIP500 friends. I am a sponsor this round, so I am very conscious of commenting a lot of folks.

Finally, REMEMBER I WRITE BECAUSE I LOVE IT and… Word-love has the power to change the world. One sentence at a time, we are having a positive impact on this beloved planet.

It all starts when one-by-one we move our pencils….(I use pencil for any writing tool… pencil is the generic catch word I prefer!)

Abundant Word-Love to all my ROW80 Friends and Friends-to-be!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Creative Life Coach Julie Jordan Scott is looking for a few passionate writers to join the first Virtual Writing Camp of 2012 starting Monday, January 23. Need to improve (& fall back in love) with your writing? Click here to check it out & become a camper in this dynamic writing adventure:WritingCampwithJJS.com

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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 -

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

 

 

#SOCSunday: I Remember Sunday Mornings: 10 Cent Cokes ~ Lateness ~ Tears ~ and Loving God

Today I wrote from the prompt Fadra provided on AllThingsFadra.com for Stream of Consciousness Sunday. The writing took five minutes and sort of swept me off my feet so I cheated and needed to illustrate a bit.

I remember going to church as a little girl, always loving it.

I remember how much I loved the brick and the strength it symbolized. We went to a beautiful church where nearly all the protestants in town attended, no matter what reformed faith you brought with you before, if you lived in Glen Ridge and were Presbyterian or Methodist or Lutheran you would wind up for this stage of your life at the Congregational Church.

I remember leaving our house with my Mother waving goodbye to Daddy who was usually lounging in a T-shirt, grateful for not having to negotiate the commute into New York City. Often times he listened to Hank Williams and others, a complete respite from the Northeast for him.

I remember I hated being late to church.

This, unfortunately, happened regularly.

I remember once I arrived so late I missed the time of going to chapel.

I remember arriving in my Sunday School classroom and it was empty. I did what I always did when I thought I was in trouble, I hid in the corner and cried. Mr. Keller, the Sunday School superintendent, must have heard me. How I remember it is he came in, found me cowering in my patent leather shoes and most likely ruffle covered dress. He took my hand and reassured me, taking me to my Sunday School teachers and classmates assembled in the small chapel.

I remember when my baby brother was baptized and Daddy actually came to church.

I remember at coffee hour, occasionally Mom would spring the 10 cents so I could have a Coke out of the machine. It came in 10 ounce bottles, with a bottle opener attached to the side of the machine. This was a huge treat. We didn’t have coke at home very often. We had water and milk and occasionally cool aid.

I remember my first spiritual crisis at age 8. I hesitated then, at going to church, afraid I was wrong to believe, afraid my teachers would see the questioning in my frightened eyes and not be able to tell me I was right to believe.

Or worse yet, my teachers might NOT see the questioning and would go on like they always did, just slightly unsatisfying.

I don’t remember what my siblings did on Sunday mornings.

I only remember God and me, with my mother a shadow chauffeur who got me to God’s house.

I miss it.

—

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your poston AllThingsFadra.com
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Creative Life Coach Julie Jordan Scott is looking for a few passionate writers to join the first Virtual Writing Camp of 2012 starting Monday, January 23. Need to improve (& fall back in love) with your writing? Click here to check it out & become a camper in this dynamic writing adventure:WritingCampwithJJS.com

  Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot

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 -

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© 2012
Julie Jordan Scott

 

 

Conversations with Leaves: Last Year's, This Year's ~ And Others Who Have Been Before and Those to Come

I had an idea for a poetry collection several years ago.      

After all, I write poetry as often as many people change their shoes, but I don’t yet have a published anthology.

This particular volume was to bear the title Last Year’s Leaves . The words inside would encompass grief and growing, loss and holding on, sadness and letting go, acceptance and birthing new leaves.

It became yet another one of my stillborn projects that I hadn’t remembered much until I walked my dogs along Alta Vista Drive and noticed, once again, a hearty-and-stubborn batch of last year’s leaves which no one plucked from the limbs of an until this precise moment unnoticed neighborhood tree.

No professional tree trimmer or highly paid gardener had spotted the stubborn leaves and disdainfully proclaimed them ugly.

Or inappropriate.

Or unnecessary.

The leaves just hung there as if waiting for me to notice them.

I imagined some sort of sorceress instructing the leaves (and perhaps the fairies in charge of their falling or not falling) “Your time will come when she finally sees you shouting from within the resting trees.”

There she was, the one leaf that caught my eye.  She had a touch of red along with slightly blushing leaf cheeks with highlights of gold.

There I was, far below her, scurrying into the pharmacy.

I took a not-so-very-careful cell phone photo logging the image “last year’s leaves” into my consciousness.

I took my time on my way out after I had solved the need to rush.

I stood directly under the firey leaf, really noticing her, and held her image in my camera.

“Last Year’s Leaf, what do you want to tell me?” I asked as I looked from the image on the camera to the image in the tree, to the tree, to the camera.  My eyes next skimmed the ground, scanned the sky. Again, I noticed the ground, to the sky.

Not everything needs a bright shiny red bow lesson to tie up its meaning or reason for existence, but somehow the writer in me feels there is an absence without meaning, without reason, without some sort of growth or life change attached.

Every leaf, every rock, every wind are seeds to be sown in my writing garden.

The photo wasn’t holding her well, I noticed.

“Last Year’s Leaf, what do you want to tell me?”

“There are many things photos cannot hold well.

“Images on film cannot hold your fingerprint, no matter how spectacular equipped it may come. It doesn’t hold your breath, your scent, your intuitive leading to “click” the leaf told me.

“Photos can hold your image very neatly and succinctly, but only you ~ breathing, three dimensional ~ can give it a heartbeat.

“It means, and I mean, nothing until you translate for me”

I took a moment to edit a photo of the leaves. This was almost getting to be too much. I didn’t sign up to be translator for leaves, I was just trying to pick up my medication.

“Wait a second,”  my conscience dove in. “As a writer, you are a witness above all. You did sign up to be a leaf translator or whatever the heck shows up in front of you, you may write about it OR it may choose YOU to write about it!”

At my desk two hours later, my fingers stood motionless on the keyboard.

A gulp of black coffee from the Ikea Coffee mug did nothing to help.

Responding to a text from a friend instead of leaf translating did not help.

A deep, melodramatic breath did not help.

The only thing that will help, I was reminded, is writing. Translating. Sketching. Transcribing.

Score after the first writing quarter:

Tree and Leaf – 7

Julie’s Willfulness – 0

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Creative Life Coach Julie Jordan Scott is looking for a few passionate writers to join the first Virtual Writing Camp of 2012 starting Monday, January 23. Need to improve (& fall back in love) with your writing? Click here to check it out & become a camper in this dynamic writing adventure:WritingCampwithJJS.com

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