Wail or, Why I Write

Wail or, Why I Write

You’ve seen it on the news. Some tragedy befalls a community in the middle east and the news cameras catch the reactions of the mothers, wives or sisters of the fallen. In their grief they throw their heads back and wail. No shame. Just pure anguish. 

I wish sometimes, in my pain, I could do the same. But I descend from Calvinist Northern European stock. We don’t show our emotions. We keep them bottled up and wait until we can be alone and weep. We remain stoic. Force ourselves to be calm. Not letting others feel uncomfortable. 

The pain must leak out somewhere.

Some run marathons or scale peaks. Others seek therapy or perhaps a 12-step program. Others search out relief in meditation or spiritual pursuits. 

Instead of wailing, I write. 

Write about disappointment. The pain of loneliness. The hopelessness of one more day. 

I write about the pain those around me suffer. About injustice. About what makes me angry. 

I also write about joy in simple things. Ecstatic happiness. A desire fulfilled. 

I’ve processed life in written word for over 30 years. I’m sure I will continue to do so until I’m no longer able. 

~

As I move forward with this blog, I’ve been asking myself what part of my life I want to share. I recently read, “Writing to Change the World,” by Mary Pipher. In this work, Pipher, a psychologist, writes about why and how we write. Whether poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction, she believes we write to make sense of our experience. If we write honestly, we allow others to see into our lives. More than that, Pipher believes our stories connect us. Our human experience has more similarity than differences. 

And that’s it right there. 

That’s why I want to write. 

I want to be honest and vulnerable with my experiences to show how humans are more alike than different. I want to make sense of my life, sure – but I also want the stories to connect with the reader. In this I don’t mean playing the comparison game (more on that in a different post) rather through my words I pray they can see their connection to others – in love, in grief, in suffering, in joy. As well I hope they can also begin to focus in on their life path and what they believe they were created to be and to do.  We are unique but joined – all part of the mystery in creation.  

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The Sacred Mess: Update

Blog Update

To everyone who reads/has read my blog:

It’s been a year since I’ve written consistently. I admit some laziness, some busyness and a whole lot of re-thinking. Re-thinking what and how I want to write.

I believe in the written word. The post-modern world is influenced more and more by social media and 140 character snippets.

But that’s not me.

I’m a big believer in the long form article. The unpacking of ideas. The details of research.

I also believe in the power of words. If not to challenge readers, certainly to challenge the writer.

Over the last months, I have not submitted any posts, but I have been gathering ideas. I’ve been reading. I’ve taken some online writing classes – and while this blog is still going to be the place I find my voice and learn – it’s also going to be more focussed on the spiritual path – of myself and the wider world. I hope to remain transparent and honest, while asking difficult questions.

Being completely honest: I don’t know exactly where this is going to go – I know the path I want to take, but have no idea of the terrain that will greet me.

I hope you’ll join me in my adventure. More than that, I hope you ENGAGE! If you disagree – tell me. If something touched you, leave a comment. Feedback is desired and necessary for growth – so please WRITE.

Thanks for being patient with me.

Look for new posts after the Labour Day long weekend!

Sandra

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

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It’s been a month since I published my last blog post.

A hot, smokey, crazy-busy month.

Still no excuse.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m just NOT a summer person. It’s not the heat. I revel in a trip to Mexico and love soaking up the rays on a beach.

I think it’s the lack of structure.

Yep. Fall, for me. is the most wonderful time of the year. Anyone else agree?

I never got the whole New Year’s resolutions thing – January? Nah. September seems to be the best time to make a change. I have a few changes I want to implement in the next (best!) season.

Be gentler with myself. Now, I don’t mean be weak or undisciplined. I mean, own up and recognize that beating myself up over things isn’t going to improve matters. Walk softly into the next season. Be at rest. Believe that the person God made me is enough.

Be healthy. I’ve spent over 30 years on a diet. I’m not kidding. And let me tell you, it’s not about discipline or protein or fat or eating grapefruit every day of your life. I’m tired. Really, really tired. And what I want isn’t to be “thin” – meaning the societal image of what I should be. Rather I want to be healthy. I want to go on long walks and breathtaking hikes. I want to swim until my legs and my arms can’t go another lap. I want to eat colourful food. I want to cook beautiful meals. I want to share those meals with people I love. I want to be messy and create things. I want to glow and be a walking example of God’s gorgeous creation.

Be love (and be loved). I’ve wanted love for most of my life. Romantic or platonic. I’ve wanted to be accepted for who I am. Yet, God reminds me from time to time that love needs to come from within. I need to love myself. Just as I am. Flaws and fat and crinkly little lines around my eyes. When I’m angry and depressed or shaking with anxiety. I am still fearfully and wonderfully made. And in turn, I desire to love. Love with abandon. Generously. Even recklessly. To be a beacon to those who believe love has passed them by or rejected them. Love completely. All.

Lofty goals? Perhaps, but I can embrace these deeper than concrete rules for success – not that there’s anything wrong with them – but for me, sensitive, silly me? I’ve learned to walk a bit more softly through this world. Knowing I’m sinful and often broken and alway, always learning.

So, onward to autumn. Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling me into His deepest grace.