What is it that begins the process of becoming aware? Is it personal? Is it universal? Is it trauma? Is it love? What begins that shift from being unconsciously unconscious, moving to consciously unconscious, next to consciously conscious and finally to unconsciously conscious? How does it feel to become aware? This a piece I wrote as a monologue about 15 or so years ago. Please note as you read to try a Southern accent, as I’m sure that’s how I originally wrote and read. I believe there had just been an airline tragedy – must have been early 90’s.
The Tragedy of Mariah Spence Products of Beauty
I’m here to speak to you tonight, but I’ve got to stop and make a… take a…you know, silent moment. We all need to acknowledge the recent tragedy. So many people lost forever. So, let’s take that silent moment now.
Thanks. O.K.
Now, I come to you tonight to talk of my success in selling Mariah Spence Products of Beauty. Somehow in light of this most recent tragedy, my thoughts as I was preparing this speech took a turn. I want to share with you these new thoughts.
First of all, let me say that, yes, I am very successful. I am the lucky recipient of this month’s diamond trio set! And that means I sold more Mariah Spence Products of Beauty than any other salesperson in our United States of America.
But, I wonder, what does it all mean? Here today – gone tomorrow. A diamond trio set today, tomorrow a lunatic could attack me and grab this necklace right off my neck! Then I wouldn’t have a diamond trio set anymore. I’d have a diamond duet.
You know, I have always been very proud of the fact that I sell Mariah Spence Products of Beauty – and in every neighborhood. Even in what I call the neglected neighborhoods. In fact, I have a little motto I use when I introduce myself to these less fortunate human beings. I say, “NNMNBT … Neglected Neighborhood Means Neglected Beauty Treatments!” Then I say, “And you Madame, could do with a little sprucing up!” Now just when it looks like I might get a right hook to the mouth, I hand over a packet of Mariah Spence Marigold Seeds.
“For Free!” I sing, “For a few minutes of your time!” Well that’s when we go in her living room or kitchen, or just sit right on the front steps. I see things you wouldn’t believe. I see things I could not tell my mother in those neighborhoods.
And these women don’t have much money. But they’ll spend. You know why? I can show them how to justify the expense. I equal a jar of $25 Mariah Spence Overnight Beauty Cream that will last her, if she uses it diligently, about five-six weeks – I equal that to the amount of beer her husband drinks in three days. I say, “If he can spend it on himself, honey, you can spend it on yourself! Right?”
And out comes the money! That’s how I work those neighborhoods.
Or always have. But today things feel different for me.
Last night, when I heard the tragic news, my husband and I were having sexual relations. Now I’m not here to give you an intimate view of my life. But, we are all adults here, right? This story is making an important point. My husband moaned this horrific moan of pure ecstasy and then the news announcer flashed on the screen interrupting regular programming. He interviewed an eyewitness that just so happened to be one of my Mariah Spence Products of Beauty customers form one of those neglected neighborhoods. The woman moaned an horrific moan of grief at the loss of her son.
So, it went like this – my husband’s moan of pure ecstasy; the news announcer announcing the tragedy itself; and then this moan of misery.
It was so odd. The moans were so much alike. And yet, they were so different. Kind of like life. So, it really made me think – you know?
Thank you. Thank you for the diamond trio! Go Mariah Spence!
Try your hand at a monologue, a piece of prose or a poem as you reflect upon this piece and write whatever it is that springs from it. Remember, your piece is yours – Whatever you write is what it is about for you. Allow yourself to become aware of your writing process – what it takes for you to write your piece. I’d like to make that part of our discussion. We welcome new Soul Writers! Please send your writings to me by Sunday night to my email iampetrina@bellsouth.net or post yourself on Monday morning!
Love Always,
Petee
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43 comments:
Petee - did this really happen?
I enjoyed reading it with my MS southern accent. Oh---it can come out especially when I have a glass of wine or when I am tired.
Well, I'd say that bell was unconsciously unconscious...except for one smll glimmer of clarity, that is.
belle, I meant
Peetee, I must say I'm feeling totally stuck about writing a monologue...My process is, I can't even think of what to write.
:(
My Dears,
When i have that moment of stuckness as I am trying to write, I write. I write - sometimes I set a clock for so many minutes and freewrite; sometimes I do a web just getting down my ideas; I always breathe deeply; and I always reread the prompt several times. Remember there is nothing that says you must write a monologue in response. Whatever happens for you as you read the prompt, whatever sparks your heart and soul - that's what comes out. My little motto - breathe... write... love... is a good one to go by. Allow yourself to follow your intuition - if the prompt is about trees and what happens for you is writing about church - allow it. Allow. Breathe. Write. Allow. Let go. Write. Breathe. Write. Write. Write... LOVE!
Any questions?
Always,
Petee
Thank you, Peetee.
By the time I read this post, I'd already given up on the monologue idea and did just as you said. I picked one component of the INTRO to the prompt, not even the prompt itself, and went with that. And. So. It. Is.
:)
Love, J
OK, so now, about my writing process...well, I don't really think of it as a writing process, exactly. I simply write. Once I have an idea, a concept, I write as I go. I think as I go along. I rarely if ever use an outline. Sometimes I'll do some editing...pare a few words here, move a sentence form one place in the piece to another, look for overused words and switch them for new ones...mostly though, I just let my hand and mind unite and what comes out, comes out.
That's my process and I'm sticking to it. :)
Hello?
Well, I guess I can post my writing process. I think think think about the prompt and by the time I actually WRITE it, I am exhausted. This weeks for me had me so excited to write, but I came down to just writing about the realization of becoming unconsciously conscious. It took a lot of work and living life to get there, but I am so happy now. It isn't always fun going through different phases of life, but it is always worth it. I am going to do the Create wkbk here at home. I am excited to start, just waiting on the snail mail! Well, hopefully Miss Petee is okay and the delay is not due to a serious incident. Take care, love and hugs
Em
Observing ourselves is an interesting pastime. We can see our reactions, responses, behaviors, our passions, how we feel about our world and our relationships – our evolution. We can see our personal revolutions! So becoming aware comes in many different colors and sizes. Read the following responses and then, we’ll talk! And any of you who want to post on your own come on and join in!
Terrie sent this in:
How does it feel to become aware?
Aware sun is smiling and moon is dancing
Aware birds are singing and dolphins jumping
Aware sky is blue with soft gentle clouds
Aware flowers have color and a sweet smell
Aware water is warm and soothing
Aware rain provides growth and life
Aware touch can be safe and gentle
Aware of unconditional love
Aware the tingle is loving and safe
Aware our world is full of color
Aware laughter and silliness feel great
Aware moving the body shifts energy
Aware social injustice angers me
Aware march madness is my favorite time of the year
Aware being a mother wonderful
Aware learning is awesome and challenging
Aware people are safe caring and loving
Aware I am beautiful
Aware I am love
It feels exhilarating, fun, warm, energetic, alive, clear, exciting, passionate, loving, and GREAT!
And Terrie sent another:
The First Touch
My heart was beating
Faster
than the speed
of light.
My body was moving
Left right
Up down
tense
I was safe
I looked into his eyes
I closed my eyes
I see
Me
Mother Ocean
Soft cool sand
Hearing the waves
roll gently.
The cool breeze
The warmth
The sun setting
Beautiful colors
Then I felt it
The first touch.
So gentle
a cloud
floating
across
my body.
I felt my body tingle
from head to toe.
A tingle
undiscovered
beneath the surface
soft
a safe
loving tingle.
Gentle
Patient
Tender
Warm
Loving
The First Touch
Have
you
ever
experienced
such
a touch
of
sweet
passion?
Emily chimes in with her piece:
I had a ‘situation’ this past summer. Well, it started in the spring really. We had just filed out taxes and were anxiously awaiting our return. Come August, still no tax refund. Called the accountant, yep Ohio is way behind on all that. Just keep waiting. Okay. We had taken the kids to a zoo and it was HOT! I think it was the week before school started. We went out to eat. The kids were cranky and tired. Walk in our front door, grab the mail, you guessed it, OUR TAX RETURN CAME! Yea! Chad and I are so happy. Hmm. That’s weird. Why does it list Chad’s name, then mine with “Dec’d” after it? Hmm. I had the idea already. Chad called Mr. Accountant. Yep. The State of Ohio says I am dead. Well. I look around. Clearly, not dead. I laugh a little because the refund was worth more with me dead than alive! At this point, I realize how far I have come in my journey. I did not freak out. I was calm. Talking with the appropriate people I needed to contact. Everything was worked out in October.
Now, in the middle of all this commotion, I laughingly tell my mother of this silly mix up. Wow. You would have thought I was actually dead. My mom stresses over everything. She can actually stress over stress. Or stress over relaxing. So when she went bonkers, I just smiled in knowing that I am in fact not dead. I am very much alive. And every day I wake up, I am unconsciously conscious that life is doing for me exactly what it should be doing. I keep positive thoughts in my head, mostly, and that is what I mostly get back. I try to keep my kids from being little slaves to stress as well. I am nowhere near being a perfect person or a perfect mom. But I AM a perfect me.
My other thought on this prompt was to write my own obituary, but I think that kind of stemmed from this experience. Plus, it would probably send my mother over the edge if she ever read it!!
Joellen adds her perspective:
I never had the luxury of being unconsciously unconscious, having been born with a distressingly conscious mind. Even in my toddler days, I recall pondering, reflecting, thinking - make that over thinking - the implications of everything. As far back as I can recall, and I can recall back to about age three pretty clearly, I rarely recall being oblivious.
As a preschooler, when my parents fought, and mind you, they fought a lot, I told myself how I would live with the person first to find out if he would turn mean after we got married. At four, I figured out that having babies must require some sort of genital contact, since people kissed all the time but did not have babies every time they kissed. Therefore it must follow their "coolies" must kiss somehow.
I felt empathy for Khrushchev when he visited the US and was denied a trip to Disneyland...yes he was the "Head Communist," but he was human, too. And I didn't believe Russia was the Enemy, either. And I knew the "Coloreds" had gotten a raw deal, and the Indians too.
I was a voracious reader from the beginning and I had a wide variety of interests, atrocities along with fairy tales...Hiroshima, Mao Mao uprisings, Anne Frank, Auschwitz, Three Faces of Eve, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Flowers for Algernon, Daviv & Lisa, on & on & on. My mind never stopped...I was not the best student, as I had trouble focusing. Still, I was always thinking.
My home life was chaotic...violent, loving, negligent, nurturing, a study in contrasts. Even as a youngster, I knew I would not live my life that way. I had it well planned and thought out. I questioned the rigid and unreasonable rules of the Catholic Church and I knew God was not petty the way the Church made Him seem. I never believed a kind hearted prostitute would go to Hell for eternity, or a baby to Limbo.
I knew loneliness and isolation and self loathing and fear...I knew social ostracism, ridicule, anxiety and phobias, anorexia and anguish. I always knew I was an old soul. I always knew I was different. So I think I skipped Unconsciously Unconscious and Unconsciously Conscious in many ways, and went straight to Consciously Conscious. The trick is...getting to Unconsciously Conscious...
Terrie, your poems are just SO beautiful, and they make me feel so happy for you!
Emily, I loved your story, and I'm happy you are only dead to the IRS.
Peetee, thnk you, and I am aware that the three of us who answered came up with such wildly different pieces. That to me is in and of itself miraculous!
LOVE, j
Terrie thank you for such a beautiful piece. It just seems to flow like liquid words.
Joellen you intrigue me! Such honesty. I can relate on some aspects of your piece. I have always felt older in spirit and soul, but I don't think I ever knew how to nuture it nor did my mother.
Thank you for chatting!
Love Emily
Thanks everyone for writing and supporting each other.
I want you to think about your process in this way: what do you feel and experience when you write? Look back over your original writing copy and have a blank sheet of paper ready for writing. Look back in observation. What do you remember about what you were feeling as you began to write? Were you feeling you were fulfilling an obligation? Were you happy to be alone in these few minutes of time to get down your thoughts? Was there music playing? Was the TV on? Were you rushed? Did you get it out in just a few minutes? Did it feel painful? Did it feel vulnerable? Is it meaningful to you? Does it move you? Do you want to share it? Have you said what you want to say? How do you feel when you have finished your writing?
I like to observe myself as a writer. I like to see what I do and how I do it. I always teach and encourage writers to have a chair, a desk, a spot where writing becomes magical. Find your paper/computer/journal that feels open and inviting. Pens and inks that are everflowing. I set myself up to have a writing experience - more than just writing.
When I write, I first just write. Whatever comes out, comes out. If it is something that I want to turn into a poem - or as I say into a public piece, I put it on the computer. I can play on the computer. I think I have said before that the passion/craft of writing is in the re-writing. It is there I choose the words carefully. It is there I use the elements of writing that I have learned along the way - the ones I like. (By the way, I learned those by reading lots of literature - lots of stories, books, and poems - not in English classes).
Even though I wrote the Mariah Spence piece over 15 years ago, I can talk about some of that process. I was in a grauate class intensive workshop, which I helped facilitate/teach for several summers at Auburn University. We met Monday - Thursday for five weeks, from 9-3. Wow! What a gift each day brought. This class was teaching teachers K - college level how to teach writing.
Anyway - there had been one of those major airline tragedies that seemed frequent in that period of late 80s and early 90s. I remember when I got to class that morning, no one even talked about it. It was as though it hadn't happened. It was as though it didn't matter. And that affected me. I felt it was important to be touched and to speak up about the massive amount of pain released into the universe. I did that the best way I knew how - with a fictional character and humorous satire.
Today, with my latest edu-macation and my higher level of knowledge and awareness about myself, I can say I was triggered by the not being worthy issue I carried/carry around. And I can say that instead of being proactive and up front, I chose to be covert about my feelings. I chose to use my humor as my self- defense mechanism. Just interesting observations.
Believe me, I do not take out my old writings and go over them each day or year, wondering what on earth I was saying. When I chose that piece to share on the blog, I chose it because it was fiction and stylized and different from what we have been writing about.
I think that part of writing is becoming conscious. Terrie's simple awareness of what she loves and how she lives in her poem is so beautiful. Her awareness of that first touch so sweet and so erotic. Emily's awareness of her growth - her observance of her ability to be simply proactive in the midst of crisis and chaos - it's such an AHA moment. She too, used humor to express. And Joellen, always knowing she knew. Always knowing the sacred importance of all people - all life. Joellen validated for herself; she can see and know her own self worth.
What more my writers? There is so much more!
Always Love,
Petee
Hi, my friends...
Thank you Emily for your kind words. I'm glad you are here on this blog, and would love to meet you in person some day. Or perhaps we've met in a previous incarnation ;). I never really thought about the honesty of my piece; I just wrote it because it was true...which is pretty funny when you think about it.
Peetee, as for the writing process, for me it is much like the speaking process, "say as you go." For this particular piece, I was struggling with monologue, fiction, cleverness...and while I can do that at times, this time, I was coming up dry, so I switched to just plain awareness, my own in particular...whose else do I know anyway? The hard part for me was posting something that did validate myself, as any show of self-pride was strongly admonished and punished in my family of origin. I had to get past that creepy feeling that I was doing something "wrong" to post that piece, which is precisely why I MADE myself post it.
My favorite writing place is on the computer, even though I type with two fingers and have to look at the keys. (I never wanted to learn to type because I didn't want to ever get stuck being a secretary, so now I pay the price). On the computer, I don't have the distraction of my handwriting looking ugly, having cross-outs, dealing with non-flowing pens, the tooth of the paper, etc. I have A.D.D. and I find that there are fewer distractions on the computer.
I prefer silence when I write. No TV, no music, no talking. However, I can deal with some noise if I have to; I can just hyperfocus and blank it all out.
Also, I like being able to go back and interject, or remove chunks of unnecessary words if I want to, or substitute new words if I decide they better serve me.
I very much agree about learning language primarily from reading...one also learns about wide and varied places, customs, facts, and all sorts of other things without even trying. Sometimes I am amazed at the amount of odd and arcane information I have accrued in this way. My backdoor neighbor used to call me "The Guru of Oddities," which I thought was funny, especially since I usually totally forget the actual story line of any given book almost immediately upon finishing it! Just the weirdest things seem to stick.
I prefer writing in a context in which I know it will be read. I dislike journaling, as I was, on more than one occasion as a youngster, beaten for what I'd written in journals. I see them as potential danger, and in many ways, indeed they are.
Yeah, so that's my writing process. I could probably improve if i set up some sort of structure but so far I've been too lazy (or copmfortable, whichever you prefer).
Thank you for the opportunity!
LOVE. :)
Joellen
Joellen
Thanks for saying you are glad I am blogging here. I tend to get antsy, like people don't like me, when it seems like others aren't blogging like they did before I can to join. Of course, that isn't just here, it is at my daughter's school, my volunteer places and likewise. I know that it is just me being hypersensitive and/or borderline psychotic, but yours words helped me. Thanks!
Emily
Hi Ladies!
This morning I was writing and writing and when I put in my jump drive to save what I wrote, the computer shut down. YIKES!!
Well, lately I have only been reading in here. Not writing because for my own satisfaction of being resistant and rebelious due to some other writing I have to do for classes, atleast in here i am allowed to not write, in class I do not have that choice, unless I want to fail the course.
But I do like the topic of being conscious/unconscious. It brings up this question for me: Is it even possible to be unconsciously concsious while being human? I'm not so sure it is. I think maybe at times it can happen, but it is nothing permanent until you leave this plane of existance... I don't think that it would serve us as much as being conciously conscious would. I guess I take it as being on the extreme end of spiritualism, even that can be taken too far.
I think that I am for the most part very conscious now, in that I seem to have a pretty clear awareness of why I do the things I do, and sometimes it extends over into why other people do the things they do. Still though, I know not to deny my own humanness, I know that I can be aware of these things and still feel and let myself react anyways, sometimes I believe even reacting is necessary, it is being real. Maybe I need to react now because I never let myself before, I just froze, I am aware that it is good to react for now, and sometime in the future I will not need to anymore. I don't feel the need to fuss about it or apologize for it.
I know that before solutions I had my dreams for therapy in a sense, it was healing and awakening me spiritually... it made look more at why I am here, that there must be more to this than living then dieing and rotting in the ground. I was not a christian like everyone else, I was not raised with any religion, I was always told by 'friends' that I am going to hell, they called me an athiest, for a while I embraced that even though I didn't even know what it meant. To me religion seemed wrong, if I was ever going to believe in a so called "god" it would not be the same one that thinks I'm going to a so called "hell". It seemed pretty clear to me that it was all just to scare people, something about power, something about control, something about money, everything not about god. I still don't even like to call it "god", I don't want it to be mistaken for their god, or their god, or their god. I don't possess my god like they do, I am not in this fight for its acceptance by saying it is mine or it has chosen me over them, whoever they are. Lets bomb them instead because they threaten my own belief system, because they claim what I say is mine. Because there is not enough. I think being able to observe all that silliness has made me conscious, given me awareness and some kind of knowing that I don't even care to define or name.
Then came solutions. I remember the first time seeing Wendy and I thought that what I wrote about my beliefs in the life history packet was going to be a problem with her. I was so surprised to learn she totally agreed with me, she knew, and I felt very validated, Finally! Then I learned so much about feelings and how to differentiate between them and feel them more and more with her guidance and the bodywork I have done with Linda. I have always called it that I was brainwashed before, another word could be unconscious.
Looking at myself as a writer... to actually consider myself one, to just pretend I might be is all I can do for now. My writing process is like one huge obstical it seems like, usually first thing that happens is I get angry, so frustrated, actually that is only if someone tells me I have to write. If it is by choice, like now, I feel more insightful, more honest, it is easier. For some reason I do get the urge to write by choice mostly when I am feeling like crap, like now, when there is something else I should be doing, like now, when I need someone to hear me, when I need someone to understand me, when I need to be noticed, or just when I notice how beautiful the day is... like today.
Love, Sam
Sam
I read about your dream on the other blog. I am sorry you have that pain. I have no idea what it feels like to lose a parent. My dad wasn't around much when I was a child, so I do not have those wonderful fatherly memories. It just really made me sad to read your dream, yet hoped you were happy for a bit to be with him again. Even if it was a dream.
Love & Peace
Emily
Hi Ladies!
What is my writing process? I have never really thought about it until now. I guess when I am at home the television is always on for noise. Let’s see. Now, I am writing this response and watching General Hospital. I know – I wish to turn the television off more and more; however the noise is comforting. You know what else is comforting, in the morning while I am getting ready for work I turn the water on in the bathroom and let the water run for a period of time. The running water is soothing. Lately I have been trying to put words to feelings. That has been a difficult task, because many of the feelings are very new to me. Writing The First Touch was difficult. I was very excited, because I wanted to put words to feelings and I wanted it to be how I was feeling at the time. How does one describe a touch so soft, so gentle, and so loving? The feeling is very new. As I sit and write about it I can re-live it in my mind over and over. It brought a warm tingle to my heart. I did feel rushed because I wanted to get it out. I also felt frustrated because the words were difficult – even though they were simple—And I was not alone in the house.
I write both on my laptop and in a journal. My favorite writing place is on the beach or sitting at a park near the water or at the bookstore drinking coffee. Lately, I have been writing so much for classes and work, writing for the pure joy of it has been lacking. Lately I have been more careful as to what I write for posting on the blogs. I am sure people have noticed I have not been writing as much lately. I believe it is because my life is moving in a different direction and sharing that piece is awkward. I have no idea what I am saying. Sorry! I am not a good speaker especially in conversation and often feel I am not able to express adequately. I definitely am happy when I am alone and writing. I will observe my writing process more often. I don't think I am always concious when writing. This piece I am currently writing has moved me and tears are falling. So I will excuse myself for now.
Thank you Petee for this journey.
Hey! Good to see all of you here!Emily, if you joined in the other blog, people would respond to you and read what you write and think about it and accept you and love you. This blog we're on is usually just about the writing...today however we are all communicating, which is love-er-ly. Anyway,I really am happy you're here.
Sam, you are a wonderful writer, a deep thinker, and very wise...and to think your brain won't even be fully developed for another six years...wow, look out! (actually, that's true). Seriously, you are a great instinctive writer. And I am hearing you, understanding you, noticing you. :)
Terrie, yes I did notice you're blogging less and sounding happier when you do, and whatever you're doing appears to be good for you and that makes me happy.
These two blogs are like a safe cave to me. I run here often, just to see who has what to say. I feel disappointed when there's nothing new.
You who write here are so important to me. Having a place to say whatever and not fear harsh judgement is amazing. It feels like the "Help me I'm falling" exercise. I visualize a net of people, arms entwined to catct each other.
Thank you Peetee for doing this for us, for challenging us and creating direction. Thank you for joining in and for your input as well.
OK, I should go now...
Love to all of you,
J
I am starting the Create wkbk here at home and I think that will validate my blogging on the other site.My family keeps trying to line up a Florida visit, but with three kids it is difficult. I am hoping to meet many new people upon our next visit!
Thanks for the support
Emily
Good for you Emily. I like the Create power phase even the dancing part. I have often referred back to the workbooks from all the phases. We will definitely get together when you get to town.
I am currently working on re-writing some of my pieces that I have written throughout the past year. It is not an easy task and I love it. I wish to be more concious aware of my process during this time.
Cutter seeks cookies.
A couple weeks ago I met Conchita and her daughter, Maggie at an outdoor farm festival. My daughter, Shani, and I were communing with nature as best we could to blend in with the crowd, most of whom had obviously been communing with nature much longer. My tshirt was drab olive green, but the stretch material and the gold accents on the print told my truth. "I am not a hippie." it announced. But they were nice to me, the hippies, including Conchita. Maggie played happily with my daughter, Shani. For the time, everything was zen, peace, love, radishes, pomegranites, ahhhh.
Later Conchita drew us into a circle for a yoga class. In the circle, a dozen or so women and one or two men, sat waiting and getting aquainted. Conchita recognized one young lady. They discovered they'd dated the same guy years ago, and Conchita remarked that she never forgot a face, "especially one that belonged to someone who wasn't cookie-cutter." How those words dug into me. For you see, I am "cookie-cutter". I come from an enormous cookie cutter. Women of my shape, size, and description are everywhere. The only distinction is our color - based on our individual baking time, and molasses content, of course. So I bent my cookie dough self into ancient yoga shapes, stretching my gluten... Ahh, enough with the cookie talk, for now. The class ended and I was filled with gratitude for the free class and the opportunity to meet some new people. I told Conchita I'd love to practice yoga with her again. She and I parted but not before saying we should get the girls together sometime, meaning our daughters, not our breasts, SILLY.
I returned to my cookie sheet, I mean home, and hoped that I'd have the courage to start practicing yoga with Conchita. The money for the class would work itself out, the problem was me, did I have the guts to show up at her studio? No, I did not, at least for several weeks I didn't. Then I saw a sign that her studio was having a rummage sale. I'm game for a good rummage and I hope her daughter would be there to play with mine. But first we needed some lunch. The best (read: quickest and cheapest) lunch for a four-year-old is a happy meal. We bought our meals and ate them in the car, parked a block away, behind a sub-station where no one would see us. Meat-eaters on their way to a yoga studio. Tsk tsk.
Now came the moment when we would enter the studio. I knew what to expect based on the lovely color photography on the website. We walked in and saw a spread of faded t-shirts and billowy pants for sale. The place was full of women, class members volunteering their time. They were all close in height, between 5'0" and 5'6", slim, tan; that weathered, outdoor tan, not tanning bed tan, and wearing this uniform-like ensemble, the snug tanktop and soft flowy pants. Pants so flowy they could've been a skirt. Their hair was wavy from air drying. They were all the same. Someone shaped them, cut them from the same mold. Ah... ha! I did not need to stay. I would never fit in and trying would only mean cutting pieces of myself away.
I'm keeping my eyes out now for my other cookies. Some may have bites taken out already, some may be disintegrating in milk, but I'll recognize them. They are just like me.
About my piece. I thought of monologue like the kind I hear on Ellen Degeneres or any other talk show. It's a single person telling a story or a joke, whatever they're telling is THEIR version. The teller has the right to add whatever inflection or meaning they choose. So that's what I've done.
"Tell all the Truth but tell it slant." Emily Dickinson
Amber....great story. I love your analogies, wit and imagery.
IF it is a true story, Amber...
You are NOT a cookie!!!
You are BEAUTIFUL.
Testing my conscious computer capibilities.
Nice job - dolphin. Glad you made it here.
I wrote this yesterday feeling a little concious of what has been going on in my life.
Sitting
back porch
the lounge chair
glass of wine
Relaxing
breathing
laughing
crying
Watching
birds fly gracefully
cat pouncing happily
clouds moving gently
Feeling
cool breeze on my skin
warm sun in my body
my heart beating
Listening
music
singing to the song
bubbly sweet gentle
Inner voice – the battle begins
monologues
process
stories told and untold
Thinking
Life
my journey
adventurous
Knowing
sadness
fear
shame
Learning
joy
freedom
love
Challenging
releasing
letting go
creating
Petee after I sent it to you I added to it. Maybe I will continue to add to it.
Are monologues just stories of events?
Amber-I remember seeing you that evening after this lovely event you wrote about and you did not look like a cookie cutter. Although you clean up well. Nice piece. What is the website of the place?
Thanks-
Terrie
Well, it is climbing up to 55 or so today. One of the ways Mother Nature keeps us living in Ohio. The tempting of Spring! Terrie, when I read your piece, it made me want to go chill on my front porch and write. That Is what I look forward to the most of summer/spring/fall. Relaxing outside, drinking wine, writing/sketching/playing. That is when I am happiest. I quit my 50 hour a week job about 1 1/2 years ago, helped other out with their kids for the past year and in May, I will have no 'job' at all. I think I really fried myself with the 50 hours a week for five or so years. I really loved my job, but I couldn't function anymore. Now I can see how off balance I was. I have been offered some very unique 'jobs/volunteer' things. I am excited to see which I will be led to. Thank you for your piece Terrie because it just reminds me of all the possiblities.
Amber, I wish you would write more! You have such a wonderful way with words, and an emotion backing every single thing you write! I love reading your works. Thank you!
Well, I think I was rambling again!
Love and happiness!
Emily
My Dears,
Oh Wow! Where has the time gone this week? I want you all to know that the prompt will be out tomorrow! I am still listening to the words of this prompt.
Amber, thanks so for your wonderful writing. I agree with Emily, who I think said that you have emotion behind every word. Your writing is so powerful. You put forth a voice that is universal in its appeal. No matter what cookie cutter we each identify with, you express our fears and a humor we all enjoy. I am so glad you are writing and I am so glad you are my daughter-in-law ---no matter how difficult you say it is to write and express here, you are doing it big and powerfully!
Terrie, a monologue is thought by one person. In a play, you are familiar with a person on stage who speaks to the audience, not to the other characters. We learn to see it as almost private thought that the writer wants to reveal about a character, yet that others may not know. In Shakespear's Romeo and Juliet, Juliet's speech, which begins "Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo..." That is a most famous monologue. We know as the audience that Romeo is listening. Juliet does not know that; she is talking to herself, her God, the universe. In my monologue, the character is giving a speech. There is no other writing to accompany this piece. So it becomes a character monologue. Usually we see insight into the character who is delivering the monologue. So a monologue is done more as conversation rather than description.
It is true that the first 5-10 minutes of a talk show is called a monologue. We hear about Ellen's monologue or Jay's "monologue." It's right that they are on stage alone delivering their "stories." In the sense of elements of literature (i.e. writing components) a monologue is about revealing character and sometimes even secrets that the audience may be privey to, but no other characters in the play. I guess there are really several and varied understandings of the monologue.
Amber, I am going to use your piece here to teach a bit more. Amber's piece is a combination of a monologue and an essay. Why? Because it is so literate. Amber uses standard English well. She crafts the language and as readers we can easily follow her writing. She could pubish a piece such as this in a book of essays about her life, or include it in a chapter of a book. A monologue is more conversational, dialectal, play like...less standard English and more the sound of talking. Do you guys understand that difference? One is no better than the other; they are two different forms of writing. Amber could take her piece and "deliver" it outloud as a monologue. In doing so, probably the emphasis of certain words might diminish, while other words may increase. She may deliver it with less formal a sound. She may leave words out...she may add words in. We speak differently than we write. Writing is more formal...unless we write dialogue, which is the way people speak...or monologue, which is the way an individual speaks. Notice the difference in others and yourself as you go through this week.
By the way Terrie, your poetry is becoming more and more poetic with each piece. I love the new poem. I can see your evolving self. She is beautiful!
Dolphin, join us next time with a writing!
Always LOVE,
Petee
Thanks Petee! Easily understood. As you speak about my poem - I see your wheels in your head going hmmmm! I guess the more I understand and the more I read the light bulbs will go off in my head.
Hi!
It's so late...and I just read the new posts. Hi Dolphin, good to see you here. Terrie, you are a butterfly. Thanks for another beautiful piece, and I lookm forward to seeing the additions as they come.
Peetee, THANK YOU for explaining monologue!The reason I had a hard time writing one is I didn't know the definition. Now I'll have to try writing one...well I don't mean this second, since it's
1:00AM but presently.
I am very disappointed to say that I will not, after all, be able to attend the Soul Writing session on Saturday. It is the day of the "Art is Everywhere" Tour and I as a studio potter am obligated to be at my clay studio. It has the honor to be the only studio on the tour. (The rest of the stops are in privte homes. Since Clay Habit is on the premesis of Mia, the owner's, home, it qualified). There will be over 100 art lovers coming through. We will be doing demonstrations and a raku firing, and people will be exposed to the studio, the gallery and the work. I'm so sorry about this, Peetee and everyone else... I just got these details today. The event is fron 10:00 to 4:00 PM...in direct conflict. I will dearly miss being with you, as I have looked forward to the Soul Writing workshop since I saw it posted.
Sometimes, oftentimes, I wish there were two of me.
I love you.
J
f
test
OK I admit it. It is the first time I've blogged. But hey look at the name .Did ya ever think a dolphin would be talking to you on line?
About becoming conscious.
I consciously went to the beach the other day to start the same assignment I gave my students. I was looking for shells. They did not have to be perfect. Just like the story reads in the book Chicken Soup For the Ocean Lovers Soul. I read the story "The Perfect Shell" to my students because it prevents them from buyin their shells in a store.
As I walk the beach I can't help but pick up garbage that the tide brought in. I am slowly begining that shift to unconsciously becoming unconscious of the people around me or anthing acept the American indian standing along a steam with a tear comming from his eye. A land and waterway he loves is covered with garbage. and for a slight moment I am Consciously unconscious of my imediate surroundings on the beach. I beging to feel his pain and sorrow and my throut begins to swell . The sound of the surff brings a rush of water through my head and I begin to cry.
Thank you Dolphin..I can see so clearly the scene you describe.
Welcome Dolphin! This is my first blogging experience too!
Emily
Hi Guys! Thanks for the writing Dolphin.
By the by I checked on top of the frigerator and did not see the pre-test. Have you been able to leave it?
Have a good one....
Terrie
What does that mean? More and more poetic?
My ADD is kicking in.....where is the new prompt?
Emily
Coral Sunset...Dolphin...hmmmmmmmm?
What on earth are you talking about with the refrigerator?
Emily, I think we're not in Kansas any more...
The refrigerator message was for Dolphin. Sorry for the confussion. I know Petee has not bee feeling well, so I am not sure when the next prompt will be.
I am still struggling to write a monologue.
Me to on the monologue. I hope Peetee feels better soon.
The subject is what has me stumped now.
Does anyone know if the writing workshop on Sat the 8th was canceled?
As far as I know the writing workshop is on.
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