April 2004 Newsletter
Online Issue # 6
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The Front Page
Celebrating 10 years of Creating DISCOVERY WRITING
This tenth anniversary in my work life came and went within the last year, without a big celebration. I had been anticipating this passage several years earlier, but then got involved with all it takes to create ten years of something like Discovery Writing, and it slipped by. Fortunately, I was reminded (several times) by junk-mail from a company promoting "10 Years-Your Name Here" gold stickers which I could purchase to promote my success. I wore one sample sticker for a day to amuse myself, but I passed on the offer to purchase more. I'd rather buy flowers!
Ten years makes me pause: it represents one-fifth of my life, a whole 20% of it, GONE. But gone into the love of imagining, creating and working steadily, one task at a time, until a decade of work accumulated. Hundreds of students, dozens of classes, hours of preparation, and enough material to clutter up my computer's hard drive and fill uncounted notebooks. Add to that an office, fall retreats, year-long groups, a web site, a newsletter, new classes and retreats, and a book proposal (now dormant). It amazes me that ten years could happen in such an ordinary day-by-day way. I was already several months into the second decade, before the junk-mail arrived to remind me what had occurred.
I'm curious about the fact that ten years ago, even five years ago, I did not and could not clearly envision the everyday way I work and live today. Had I seen a sneak preview of the effort my choices would require, I might have pulled back and wisely hesitated. But when you see your projects before you, the ones you've chosen to care about, you tend them and watch them evolve, bit by bit; you learn to trust the unexpected permutations they take on. And you witness the unfailing wisdom of your own heart as it dares to guide you.
Sifting back further than ten years, looking for glimmers of what was to come, I recover two images that I carry with me effortlessly. The first is the sight of the morning sun streaming in through my dining room windows lighting up the room and my soul. Every cell in my body aches to remain in that space and be in that light. But I have a job to go to and a bus to catch, and I leave home with a saddened heart-day after day after day. The second image appeared to me in a guided imagery I did probably 15 years ago. In this image, I wake in the early morning to bird song, fresh air and the most beautiful light, filtered through filmy curtains on my bedroom windows. AND I AM FREE to take it all in without needing to rush off somewhere else. A few months ago I created a spontaneous mantra for myself when I wrote fondly about this second image: "Remember the curtains going nowhere."
I love the quality of the morning light in both of these images, and it thrills me that this light is in my life. The way that I live and work now allows me to begin my day savoring the light without rushing off. It also means that I sometimes work in the evening. But for the best part of the day, the first part of the morning, I am in the light I love-at home.
It took more than ten years to get here, and I wasn't even consciously focused on making this part real. But as is said, be careful what you wish, it might come true. I see now that it has.
I thank you for being in my life as a student and teacher, client, reader, colleague, friend.... I wish you ten years, and more, of loving what you're creating and creating what you love.
With gratitude,
Laurie
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