What I haven’t told you is that I’m a deviant. I hate following rules. I’m drawn to the messy, unapologetic, creative and rebellious people of the world and in writing I’m able to find my safe place. I’m able to find my people and connect with others who are vastly different from me. This brings us to the 2nd rule of the A.I.R. writing club: we focus on the process rather than the product. We write with careless abandon. We practice surrendering our weapons and body armour, allowing our authentic selves to emerge on the page. And try not to edit! Write, and then write some more. I believe stories shape our reality. They help us make sense of our past, what we’ve been through, who we were then, who we are now, and who we would like to be going forward. If you are nodding your head YES, then please see the journaling prompts below. And because you are in this circle, I completely encourage you not to follow any of these rules. Instead, think of them as guideposts.
I will start by sharing some of the stories I’ve written and follow up with a journaling prompt. And if you are so inclined, I’d love to read what you’ve written. If you’ve missed the 1st rule, please see June’s newsletter or you can find it on the blog page here.
Right now I’m loving Summertime and the characters woven into it’s brightly colored, whimsical, and dramatic fabric. The deep forest greens, magical yellows and fiery reds in my garden all meeting for a short time to “play” their respective roles. I love how the birds come to greet me in the morning. Does their singing seem louder during this first act? Like they’ve saved their best songs to belt out for madame summertime. During intermission, I love how the spirited food tastes: ripe tomatoes, sweet corn, fresh cilantro…creating an explosion of flavor in my mouth. I love how the air smells in summertime. Sometimes I’ll catch a whiff of honeysuckle down a cheery brick road or maybe it’s just fresh air like the thrill of opening your windows and doors after a long dormant act. I love summertime thunderstorms. During the final scene, it seems these thunderstorms always have something to say. And they leave the air slightly cooler for a brief part of the act. And for that, I am grateful. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a lakeside town where the sun rarely made an appearance, and when it did, you sat outside all day long because God knows when you’d see it again. But I often feel guilty when the sun is out and I’m inside thinking, “I’m missing my opportunity to greet her. Can I afford to take this chance?” I’m momentarily sad when the play ends. And then I wonder how the patchwork of our different acts will become stitched together like a beautiful, messy, asymmetrical, and rebellious (but in all the right ways) kind of a play. BLACKOUT.
If you are a rebel and are ready to start your healing process, I’m glad you are here 🙂 And if you haven’t signed up for the A.I.R. monthly Newsletter, you can do so here: http://eepurl.com/cucdDf Writing is a great way to identify the destructive stories you tell yourself.
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