Possibilities, Shamanic Healers and Reflections

Last Wednesday at Chaucer’s Bookstore in Santa Barbara, I attended a reading by a writing friend, Hope Edelman. We had first met at the University of Iowa’s Summer Writing Program back in the 1990s—where I was the student and she the instructor. I vividly recall sitting on the bench by the river, chatting as she pushed her baby carriage back and forth, cajoling her crying daughter. As the author of Motherless Daughters , I remember observing that her maternal instinct was strong. Today, that baby is twelve years old and the subject of her latest book, The Possibility of Everything. There are only a handful of nonfiction writers who I truly admire and whose work resonates deep inside my psyche and Hope is one of those.

The subject of Hope’s new book will intrigue even those who do not have a spiritual streak. Hope describes the book’s impetus as the introduction of ‘Dodo,’ into her three-year old daughter Maya’s life. As we learned during her powerful reading, Dodo was Maya’s imaginary friend who insidiously infiltrated every aspect of this young family’s life. This imaginary friend would instruct Maya to take random and bizarre actions, such as walking into a room where her mother was, hitting her and then leaving.

To help fix the problem, most parents would decide on the traditional medical route and pull the child down a path of intense psychoanalysis and perhaps years of treatment with a long train of still-unanswered questions as to whether the child is schizophrenic. But not Hope and her husband Uzi. with the encouragement of their Nicaraguan nanny, the couple decided to pursue nontraditional modalities.They packed their bags and took their daughter to Belize hoping that the healers there would help Maya banish Dodo from her life. The book is about that journey which ultimately lead to Maya’s cure.

A link has been made between children who have imaginary friends and creativity. As a matter of fact, Hope admitted that she had imaginary friends as a little girl, but supposedly they did not adversely affect her childhood nor her childhood relationships. In other words, unlike her daughter Maya, she did not become obsessed by her imaginary friend. As an only child, I also had imaginary friends, who helped to fill the gap of having siblings as playmates. After hearing Hope’s story, I have grown even more curious about the connection between these friends and creativity. I wondered if any of my readers have any comments.

I have only begun The Possibility of Everything, but cannot put it down. In addition to wanting to hear Hope’s story and her family’s extremely unorthodox choice to journey in Belize and visit shamanic healers, I am also intrigued by the idea of shamanic healers, in general, and other complimentary modalities.  I would love to hear about your experiences in this area.

Writing for Wellness and Health

This past weekend I attended a conference in Atlanta — the Wellness and Writing Connections Conference. My dear friend and colleague, Julie Davey also the author of  Writing For Wellness (a fabulous book) was the keynote speaker. I conducted a workshop entitled, “The Healing Notebook.” It’s the second year I have taught this workshop and the crowd is always very enthusiastic and includes writers, therapists, and clinicians. The premise of my workshop is to discuss not only the healing power of words, but how regular notebook-writing can empower us. Recent studies have shown that writing down your feelings can help you  come to terms with difficult situations. The good thing is that there are no rules to the healing notebook. You can dictate your own method and do at your own pace. By doing this you will gain control of your life.

Quite a few writers have used their notebooks as a way to heal and they have also gone on to publish their work, including Walt Whitman, Andre Lorde, May Sarton, Hilda Raz, Donald Hall, Elizabeth Berg, Jane Kenyon, Isabel Allende and my favorite diarist, Anaïs Nin who began her first journal as a letter to her estranged father who left the family when she was ten years old. Writing that letter was her way of healing from the pain of losing him. Since that day, Nin became an avid diarist and today has numerous published volumes.

I am also a big advocate of letter writing in the notebook and novelist Isabel Allende began her writing career by writing a letter to her grandfather when he was nearly 100 years old. At the time he was dying in Chile where her novel House of Spirits was set. She admits that in many ways, writing that novel saved her life.

The Healing Notebook has numerous benefits including: it’s a place to capture and record memories, a place to clear the mind, a place to build self-confidence, a place to empower and a place to witness the healing process. I always suggest using proper tools—that is, a notebook and pen which inspires and resonates with you. You want to be motivated to use your journal. I suggest starting with free-writing first thing in the morning, with 15-20 minutes and increasing the time as needed. Basically, this is writing without lifting your pen off the page and seeing where your mind goes. Begin by writing about an experience which has deeply affected your life or which has obsessed you for quite some time.

In general, my only suggestion is that when you sit down to write, you should write as long as you like, but if the pain gets too great, it is probably a good idea to stop. This would be an appropriate time to take a break and do something different like walking or some other form of exercise. The best part about keeping a healing notebook is the ability to turn a negative into a positive and what can be so bad about that?

Journaling Breast Cancer Awareness Month

BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH

October is many things, including the anniversary of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Although breast cancer awareness should be promoted all year round, this month tends to focus on an intense campaign to promote awareness, education and empowerment to women of all ages. Given my background as an educator and registered nurse, I cannot help, but to share some reminders and statistics.

Statistics show that one in eight women will get breast cancer at some point during their lifetime. Here are statistics broken down in age:

Age 30 to39  – 1 in 233

Age 40 to 49 – 1 in 69

Age 50 to 59 – 1 in 38

Age 60 to 69 – 1 in 27

For more information, check out this website: http://www.nbcam.org/about_nbcam.cfm.

Personally, eight years have already passed since my diagnosis with breast cancer and I have to say that I feel better than ever. Because I feel so good I want to urge women over the age of forty to get annual mammograms. The reason I am still here today is because mine saved my life. My type of cancer, called DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ) is sometimes called, ‘precancer,’ and is only detected on mammograms.

Coincidentally, this month the Mayo Clinic Women’s Health Source Newsletter featured an article, entitled, “Ductal Carcinoma: A Highly Treatable Breast Cancer.” The article says that before mammograms very few women were diagnosed with DCIS and now more than 62,000 cases are diagnosed yearly, which also accounts for about 20 percent of all new cases of breast cancer diagnosed each year. The good news is that its treatment is extremely successful with a 10-year survival rate of almost 100 percent.

DCIS occurs when abnormal cells multiply and form a tumor or growth in the mammary duct.  The first sign is the growth of calcium deposits (calcifications) which on a mammogram look like clusters of white spots, often confused with talcum powder. In general, DCIS is not life-threatening, but if not treated early, it can progress into invasive cancer. The biggest challenge with this type of cancer is deciding on its treatment. Fortunately due to the diligence of my fabulous doctors, mine saved my life.

Ultimately  we are all responsible for our own health and the more  we understand about our own bodies, the better we can take care of ourselves and maintain a path of health. For me, one of the most beneficial paths to my own health was writing about my experience in my forthcoming memoir Healing With Words: A Writer’s Cancer Story, which will be out in the Summer of 2010, just before next year’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Here’s one poem from that book:

To My Daughters

You were the first I thought of

when diagnosed with what

strikes one in eight women.

It was too soon to leave you,

but I thought it a good sign

that none of us were born

under its pestilent zodiac.

I stared at the stars and wished upon

each one that you’d never wake up

as I did this morning to one real breast

and one fake one; but that the memories

you carry will be only sweet ones,

and then I remembered you had your

early traumas of being born too soon,

and losing a beloved grandpa too young

and then I had this urge to show you

the scars on the same breast

you cuddled as babies, but then wondered

why you’d want to see my imperfections

and perhaps your destiny.

I caved in and showed you anyway,

hoping you’d learn to be careful, as

if it really mattered, because your grandpa

used to say when your time’s up, it’s up.

May he always watch over you.

Memoir and Truth

Last weekend  I taught a memoir workshop at the West Hollywood Book Festival. It’s my second year doing so and it’s one of my favorite gigs. The class overflows with enthusiastic attendees who are smart and ask great questions. One recurring question in most of my workshops is, “Are you liable if you write a memoir about a mean family member or unfortunate childhood situation?” In light of all the attention given to the exaggerations and falsehoods in James Frey’s memoir, A Million Little Pieces, many people have begun to suspect memoir writers as a group, but I would like to set things straight.

The truth is when you write memoir, you are writing your truth as you remember it. It is no one else’s truth. It’s your own. You can be sued by a family member, but they might not be able to win the suit. They need to  prove that what you wrote is a lie and often this is very difficult to do. When writing memoir, in either the short or long form, the best advice is to be as honest as possible. As I mentioned in last week’s blog, our memories are not reliable and they tend to play tricks on us.

If Frey would have just written a caveat in the beginning of his book attesting to this, chances are he would have not received all the negative PR that he did. Most memoir instructors, myself included, will tell you that often times, the act of writing will help you remember and that’s why I am such an advocate of keeping a journal. It is a place to practice your writing. In her book, Fearless Confessions, my colleague, Sue William Silverman coined a term, ‘memory truth,’ where she identifies memories as completely subjective. She says, “While it’s not acceptable to make up facts willy-nilly when writing about your life, it is acceptable to convey your individual version of events—your memory-truth.” I cannot agree more with this sentiment. This is great advice,  particularly if you have already decided to head down the road to writing your memoir.

Honoring The Kennedys

My mother was a big fan of the Kennedy family who were popular in the way that rock stars were. The charisma of John F. Kennedy and his family lead them to their being called the figurative designation of Camelot. This name was credited by Jacqueline Kennedy in view of John’s affection for the musical. Jacqueline Kennedy was admired for her style and elegance and I vividly remember my mother trying to mimic her wardrobe in her own closet. Even though my mother wasn’t much into politics, like many other Americans, she was swept away by the family’s allure and charisma.

I will also never forget that dismal day, November 22, 1963. I was in the third grade and the principal’s voice came on the loud speaker and told us that we should stand up behind our chairs because he had an important piece of news. “I’m very sad to report that our beloved President Kennedy has just been assassinated in Dallas, Texas.” The word ‘assassinated’ became part of my vocabulary that week, It was one of our ten spelling words and echoed repeatedly all week long on the black and white television perched on the small table in our living room. Our weekend writing assignment was to write an essay titled, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country,” in honor of Kennedy’s words spoken at his inaugural address.

Yesterday I watched Ted Kennedy’s Memorial Service, this time on a colored television but with similar feelings of admiration. As a grown woman, I now have a better understanding of the important mark some people make on our country’s history and how their legacy will live on. Ted Kennedy served forty years of his life in the senate, and after watching highlights from his speeches and interactions throughout those years, one can clearly see how much fun he must have been to work with; how his strong sense of humor lightened up some very tenuous moments. During these difficult economic times, this could be a lesson to us. Let’s lighten up, be thankful for the good things and remember to make the most of our sense of humor!

Rest in peace, Ted Kennedy.

The Universal Rhythm of Music

My family has always believed all birthdays are a cause for celebration, but this past weekend was a special celebration in honor of my father-in-law’s 85^th. There were close to seventy adoring people. After the events of the past month, I was delighted to have something positive to celebrate.

I cherish my father-in-law and there is not much I would not do to honor him, the family patriarch who for years has filled our family with his love, generosity and wisdom. This year’s celebration was particularly important in view of his recent diagnosis with Parkinson’s Disease. We have all grown accustomed to watching him sit uncharacteristically quiet during our family meals and discussions. Through his occasional questions, we know he is paying attention, but his interaction has been severely hampered since the onset of his disease.

The highlight of the evening was the presence of two Hungarian musicians, a violinist and guitar player. I watched as my father-in-law was transported by the music to his childhood growing up in Komarno. When the musicians arrived he sat watching in shock and then stood up, and began singing and dancing in the living room of his grandiose Toronto apartment to each melody and song played. It was as if he went into a blissful trance. I don’t remember him dancing like that since my wedding in 1977 where he swung me around the dance floor. We mostly watched in awe, but a few of us took the opportunity to get up and dance with him one by one. I was amazed by the way the  music took him out of his cocoon and brought so much joy to this eventful day.

At the airport I picked up the magazine, A Scientific Mind and there was an article very apt to the situation encountered at my father-in-law’s party. The article was entitled, “Why Music Moves Us.”  It discussed how music was the universal language. The neurologist Oliver Sacks in his recent book, Musicophilia, says, “Music seems to be the most direct form of emotional communication.”

As the mother of a son who is a musician I have seen the power of music and how it  can sway the human spirit. For years music has been shown to improve both mental and physical well-being. In the elderly it has been shown to decrease anxiety and agitation. So now, I am suggesting to my beloved mother-in-law to push self-medication with music, even if it means hiring musicians once a month for a live personal concert. There is nothing to lose, but so much to gain and Oliver Sacks professes, “Music is the most direct and mysterious way of conveying and evoking feelings. It is a way of connecting one consciousness to another. I think the nearest thing to telepathy is making music together.”

Life and Death Journaling

 This past week has taught me, that in learning how to die we learn how to live. The three prominent female figures in my life were struck by disasters. My 79 year old mother fell off her horse and sustained a severe subdural hematoma and has been in ICU, my mother-in-law, Jeannine is on a remote cardiac monitor and my favorite aunt Lilly and second mother, passed away. I don’t know who to write about first, as they are all such unique and dynamic women.

My mother has been riding since an early age and even though we tried to get her to stop she said she wanted to die on her horse. She always hung around with younger riders and has had a youthful spirit. I am happy she’s had this passion, but now as she slowly reclaims her memory and talking abilities after the accident, she finally agrees that she must give up riding and find a more age-appropriate hobby. We were told that her subdural hematoma was so large that if she was 20, she would probably be in a coma.

Aunt Lilly is my husband’s aunt, but I’ve known her for more than thirty-five years. She died in her sleep at the age of 88 after a tumultuous yet successful life. I suppose what I admired about her most was how in spite of all she had been through, she never wore her heartaches on her sleeve. She was a bright, vibrant and positive woman who was a successful clothing designer in Montreal where we lived during our early marital years. When Lilly’s daughter, Norma, phoned to ask if I would speak at her memorial I was honored to be included.

Here is my eulogy: Some people are immortal and Lilly Dee is one of those. I met Lilly more than 35 years ago when I married Simon. We immediately had a connection, but, more importantly, I so admired her vibrant spirit, positive attitude, sense of humor and snippets of wisdom. Lilly always seemed to say and do the right thing at the right time. Uncle Ernie called her the family diplomat as she always told us like it was with the right balance of honesty, grace, and compassion and like her brother Alex, with the sensibilities of a wise sage. I’d like to read a poem from my recent collection, Dear Anaïs: My Life in Poems for You. (Note: For those of who have my book, you will notice that I modified the last stanza for the occasion)

My Navigator

   Dedicated to Aunt Lilly

From the moment we met

I loved you, right there,

in your country house on a remote lake,

Hungarian cheese spread smeared on Swedish crackers,

chicken paprika draped over a mound of mashed potatoes,

that long French Canadian wood table,

delightful culinary aromas from your kitchen,

lively paintings and portraits enveloping your walls,

books piled on your bedside table.

Oh how I miss the warmth of your home,

nestled in your easy laugh and zest for life.

I knew I wanted to grow old like you,

proud shoulders pulled back,

despite years in concentration camp

and the loss of two adoring husbands.

I shall forever be impressed by your sense of humor,

how you called my husband the glue doctor

after he developed a prosthetic cement;

your fine attire as a clothing designer,

positive tint to life’s idiosyncrasies, and yearning

for learning and travel.

I sit here with the memory of your accented voice

and how you said you had to go to your room to

‘brush your tits,’ and how each time

we looked into one another’s eyes

we had a connection which transcended

any words I could blend on these lines.

You’ve helped me navigate through every

stage of this woman’s life and shown me

how to survive all that I’ve been through

and for this I thank you.

Lilly, your spirit remains forever alive.

Rest in peace.

Striding For Inspiration

I recently read Joan Anderson’s biography, A Walk on the Beach, a gem of a book and also a wonderful gift item for that middle-aged woman who has everything, but seeks deeper meaning in her life through growth and exploration. The book’s sentiments are akin to those offered by Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie.

Anderson decides to spend a year alone in Cape Cod where she befriends Joan Erikson, the late widow of the psychologist, Erik Erikson. Joan Erikson bestows her years of wisdom on Anderson and the book unravels alongside their extraordinary developing friendship. Anderson quickly learns the power in having a mentor. After living all those years with her therapist husband, it would seem logical that she’d have a good grip on how to cope with life’s ups and downs. While reading this book, I made sure my notebook was alongside. Each page had potent insights to spark my own thoughts and serve as kernels for future essays and stories. The last section of the book compiled these nuggets of inspiration into a reusable list.

I love reading books which offer insights to inspire my own writing. I also enjoy books which open my eyes to new activities, such as walking which cleans the cobwebs out of my mind and also unlocks writer’s block. By the time I reached the end of the book, I decided to make walking a part of my daily routine. Since moving to Santa Barbara nearly four years ago, I’ve noticed that many people favor walking as a hobby. For me, it’s a time to meet new people, but it’s also a time to nurture reflection and creativity. Santa Barbara offers a unique blend of calm and an unexplainable creative force. I often wondered if this is a result of its unique location, where the ocean meets the mountains.

Patricia Fry wrote an article called “Meditation Walking for Writers,” which I read with great interest. She suggested a walking meditation technique to help if you’re stuck in your writing. She says that there is no altered state of consciousness needed to embark on this type of meditation, and that it’s just a matter of quieting your mind and finding the stillness from within. She does admit that you have to want to do it and then you will see results.

The technique is simple. The first step is to establish a schedule, anywhere between forty-five and sixty minutes each day. Dressing comfortably and finding a quiet place to walk, is critical. Santa Barbara, thankfully, has a glutton of perfect walking locations. Fry suggests that while walking you focus solely only your senses—hear the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement, a sprinkler turning on, or the birds chirping. Then she suggests feeling the air against your skin and how the muscles in your legs tighten with each step. Pay attention to the aromas, whether it’s the blooming flowers, budding trees or grass being cut. In other words, put yourself in the moment.

Beth Baruch Joselow in her book, “Writing Without the Muse,” also suggests in her chapter “Go Outside,” to explore the outdoors and discover something unfamiliar—something growing in your garden, something living under a rock, something discarded in the alley. She suggests bringing that something back to your desk to examine all its facets. She recommends writing a description of it using all your senses. She takes the exercise one step further and suggests describing the item using someone else’s voice, someone you know.

Once you try these mind-clearing techniques, you can start allowing creative ideas to filter in. Fry claims that meditation walks provide an ideal arena for problem-solving. When she feels overwhelmed, she walks change her approach to life, whether it results in slowing down or figuring out what to do next. She suggests replacing negative thoughts with positive ones. If you think positively, then chances are it will soon become a reality. Meditation walking is a way to relax and increase your awareness while getting some of that fresh air and exercise we all need and who knows, the side effect might be a fabulous poem or story!

Reflections on National Poetry Month

April is  National Poetry Month and I am delighted how much has been going on in our community to honor poets. On Saturday, I went to a reading by Mary McGinnis, a Sante Fe poet who has been blind since birth. She read some new poems and also from her collection, Listening For Cactus. Her poetry was absolutely beautiful and it was impressive how well her other senses, such as hearing and smell have been so keenly developed. She was a true inspiration, and even those listeners who have never written poetry, might have been motivated to do so. Tomorrow night I am a featured speaker at a Ventura’s Writer’s Club. I will be discussing how you don’t have to be a “poet” to write poetry. I always encourage people to generate poetry originating from their personal experiences. The strongest poems have an interplay with the inner and outer self. When writing narrative poetry (a poem that tells a story about a personal experience), a good way to bring people into your poem is to find a universal link to lure them in.

Why don’t you try writing a narrative poem about an experience you’ve recently had and let the rhythm of the experience help determine both your line breaks and your ending. Good luck!

Journaling Your Heart

I am reading a wonderful book written by a woman I met at AWP. It’s called, Foolsgold by Susan G. Wooldgridge, who also wrote another masterpiece called, Poemcrazy.

She came to my book signing because she was drawn to the title of my poetry book, Dear Anaïs: My Life in Poems for You. She told me she had a letter from Anais and she even quoted it in her recent book. After talking for about half an hour we revealed a deep connection through our mutual friend Anaïs.

 

In the first chapter of her book, Susan mentions how most of her life she ignored her body’s impulses as if they were bothersome, like her physical heart didn’t exist. She began watching for heart shapes and noticed how her heart felt, reacted and how they live in her body and ultimately might have prepared her for her father’s death.[ She encourages her readers to speak to their hearts and shares how scientists say there are brain cells in the heart. She suggests writing a letter beginning with, “Dear Heart,” to see where it leads you. Taking it one step further, she also suggests allowing the heart to write back and offer answers. Just paying attention to your heart, she says, opens it up and allows you to be creative in healing ways.

 

I am now hooked on her way of thinking and can’t wait to read the rest of the book and maybe even incorporate her writing exercises in my classes.