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It’s a book!

Posted by on June 23, 2016 in Blog

It’s a book!

I am delighted to announce that One Year of Writing and Healing is now a book! The book offers a quieter, more cohesive way to work, step by step, month by month, with writing and healing. It also offers a lot of new material. If you’re interested in taking on writing and healing as a project, this book might just be the perfect way to launch it. You can order the book here. Perhaps you’d like to explore a sample of OYWH before deciding? Download a PDF of the first chapter: Months 1&2 OYWH Order the book at Amazon...

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Writing About Rain

Posted by on June 20, 2016 in Blog, Writing Ideas

Writing About Rain

In a chapter from Writing for Wellbeing called “Writing about the Seasons,” Patricia McAdoo, a writer and clinical psychologist in Ireland, introduces a writing prompt with an African saying: “It is the rainy season that gives wealth.” She writes: Living in what is often a rain-sodden country, I can testify that you either have to see the merits of the rain or else just moan about it the way a lot of people do. It is tough when it rains incessantly especially during the summer or when a big outdoor event is planned, but rain gives Ireland a very fertile soil, making it a great agricultural country. There are some benefits like the saying above states.   What have been the benefits for you during what might be called the rainy periods of your life when the sun didn’t shine every day? Sometimes going through a bleak time can make us more resourceful, more self reliant.   What was your rainy season? What wealth did it bring?” I love this idea of finding wealth in unexpected places—and this connection between uncovering resources and becoming more resourceful. Finding unexpected treasure in our rainy seasons. I also love how evocative the visual images and sound of rain can be. Here is Ray Bradbury writing lyrically about rain in his story, “All Summer in a Day,” set on the planet Venus: It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. The drum and gush of water. The sweet crystal fall of showers. The words themselves seem like treasure—as if he’s seeing and hearing rain differently—uncovering its wealth. Try writing about rain? Try writing about a rainy season? Listen to a bit of rain first?   Patricia McAdoo’s book can be found here. It’s a lovely, rich, and useful book and has this very nice quote in the introduction: “When I read that first book on therapeutic writing, the separate worlds of writing and psychology collided with full force. I discovered that it was all about the process of writing not the product. Because I liked to write fiction, writing for me was about endlessly polishing and editing everything I wrote. Writing for wellbeing is not about polishing and perfecting writing. It’s about expressing things through writing about ourselves, our lives. ” Her blog is here. Rain photo from...

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Desert Places by Robert Frost

Posted by on June 10, 2016 in Blog, Healing Poetry

Desert Places by Robert Frost

Not long ago I noticed that I was afraid of something—I can’t remember what now—and the words that came into my head—unexpected—as if dropping into my mind—were from Robert Frost’s poem, “Desert Places”: You cannot scare me with your desert places . . . I have it in me so much nearer home to scare myself with my own desert places. I misremembered that first line—but still I found the lines oddly comforting—a feeling I haven’t always associated with this poem. Oh. It’s my inner landscape where the terror is located. My response to this thing that is happening—that’s what’s nearer home—that’s the desert place I’m vulnerable to—and that’s something I can do something about? Maybe? Here’s the poem read by Robert Farnsworth for Frost Place:   I find the whole poem compelling, but the lines I find most evocative are those in the final stanza—the ones I remembered—though that first line I’d misremembered. They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars—on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places. I love the way that, right in the moment, the words and tone of poetry have at least the potential to shift a thought—to send a stream of thoughts moving in a new direction. And this a reason to memorize certain lines of poetry? So those new words and thoughts will come to us when we need them? Poetry as a way to revise the text inside our own minds? See I must go, I will go: Poetry as Respite and Transformation from this site Photo of Frost from Wikimedia...

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