by Sheila Finkelstein on September 26, 2010
Today WRITING CAMP, my friend Morgine Jurdan wrote and read about a delectable meal she recently had. Beautifully described, missing, for me, was the bread soaking up sauce part she had told me about in an earlier phone conversation. After the call, I wrote:
Morgine’s bread soaking up the cream mustard sauce – doesn’t matter what the sauce – I see it, feel it, that piece of bread swelling with the fullness of the tasty moisture it is absorbing – all the cells getting full as its body is pushed around the plate to gather up all that is available in the plate of life to put into my gut.
“My gut” – Interesting I’m so harsh about it – “gut” sounds so heavy, almost ugly. What if it were into my “being” – gently, slowly, if I temper myself to taste morsel by morsel and allow myself to digest the treasures of the plate – slowly working their way through my boding, sensing the spaces they need to fill? It’s all liquid, absorbed and softened by the carrier, a healthy piece of bread, bringing out peace of mind, peace of body.
PS – Originally wrote “mustard sauce” and in editing added the “cream” (which had in reality been there). I was tempted to remove the “mustard” part. “Too tangy”, thought I. Then, “Silly, or not, maybe that’s what’s missing for you – the tanginess of life!”
If you missed the link to Morgine’s writing, see I Remember…, halfway down the post, for the meal writing to which I responded.
by Sheila Finkelstein on September 24, 2010
I had a full “plate” of classes and “to-dos” today and once again I got a nudge at 11:30 AM to finish the call I was on and drop in on Julie Jordan Scott’s WRITING CAMP. From my experience of being in the spaces that Julie creates, I know something is bound to open up for me. I my not always know what it is or will be and I was surprised today to find that memories of Sam flowed from my, interestingly, red pen. Was the “red” for my heart?
The prompt “Blessings in front of my right now“; the floor and the tiles that take me anywhere I want to go in my house: to the riches or the distractions; to 3 carpeted rooms, two of which house my MacIntosh computers; the other my bed for rest and memories of Sam, of being held closely, tightly, lovingly and being gently caressed on the flesh of my abdomen when I lay on my back.
I hated this. It brought my attention and awareness to what I felt was an excess of fat, more pronounced, for me, with his caresses. I always stopped him, removed his hand; never thought to ask what pleasure he derived from this. Too late now.
My writing continued, given there was more time before the timer had Julie state, “Complete your thought and end for now.” I continued writing about the pot in front of me, in the center of the floor, remaining from a fire ritual I did last night, celebrating the Fall Equinox. And that story is unimportant here.
Suffice it to say, “Life does go on and we can continue to find richness and blessings if we put ourselves out in communities which support us.” Thank you, Julie.
by Sheila Finkelstein on September 22, 2010
This morning I was moved to join a call facilitated by Julie Jordan Scott. The call was one of her current 49-day daily writing program in AND NOW, YOU WRITE. I’ve been a participant in countless calls and programs that Julie has offered over the past eight or more years that I have known her. She is a truly authentic, loving, sharing, caring, generous human being. I consider her one of my mentors and know that always something will open up for me out of being in her presence. If you are interested in writing and/or being comfortable in expressing yourself, I strongly recommend you check out Julie’s AND NOW, YOU WRITE virtual writing camp.
The prompt for today was “I fill the paper with the breathing of my heart” and in the subsequent five minutes of free-flow writing time, the words that filled my paper became:
I fill the paper with the breathing of my heart. Prompt from Julie Jordan Scott
So often the paper is filled with my questions. Is my heart full of questions? What are they?
I’m often not breathing, not consciously so… not with awareness, anyway, that is.
If I don’t pay attention to my breathing is that protecting my heart protecting me from my heart?
My heart/your heart is/both are our lifelines to our beings.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
What is my heart saying?
What does it want me to hear?
Is it “hearing” or is it “feeling” that it wants me to do?
Are there words that I am hiding, suppressing? Words that want to come through?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Steady is my heart in rhythmic breathing – breaths.
Does it pound? Does it want to pound?
What happens when I am excited? Do I pass on that excitement to you?
Do you feel it?
I haven’t said anything or much, yet and
I have filled the paper with words.
What do you hear my heart saying?
