A writer’s life involves a delicate balance between immersion and seclusion. We must be of the world to discover events and locales for exploration, to stimulate curiosity, to develop observations and empathy. In the chaos and trauma of everyday life, we learn what it is to be human. Our writing is not restricted to solely the inspiration of our own lives. Otherwise, we’d each write one or two books, perhaps a handful of poems, and be spent. The experiences of loved ones and complete strangers also inform our creations.
Continue reading “The Writer’s Quandry: Immersion vs Seclusion”
I dislike conflict. Most of us do. But it’s natural (and unavoidable) that situations will arise where we perceive things differently from one another. We each cherish a differently composed montage of principles and our views are uniquely coloured by individual traumas.
Blind anger has never solved a dispute. Rage turns back on its host with snapping teeth and ruinous effect.
Another biproduct of conflict is anxiety. Rumination and catastrophizing are close cousins, also unconstructive and self-injurious—yet so easy to fall in with when the way to resolution is unclear. “The tail is wagging the dog,” I say when my mind loops around that track. This phrase returns me to where I want to live, in the moment. I should be directing my mind’s thoughts, not the other way around.
Continue reading “Unresolved Conflict and Empty Cups”
If I could take a ride on anything in the world, I’d choose a bird. As a child, I loved the story of Thumbelina, a girl—you guessed it—the size of a thumb. She could stand eye to eye with a frog, sail a fallen leaf across a pond and wear buttercups as hats.
The book illustrations were in a style reminiscent of the Victorians. My favourite was of Thumbelina riding a cerulean blue barn swallow with a burnt orange belly and a split tail. Together they soared above farms, church steeples, and villages. I hope an illustrator one day sees Thumbelina as an Indian girl swooping along the Ganges River, an afroed girl rocking Black Girl Magic a mile above her neighbourhood, or a First Nation girl leaning over a wing to touch the tops of soft pines.
Continue reading “Notes on Riding a Bird”
Research by neurologists in UCLA proved that when we watch other people engaged in action, neurons associated with the muscle group used by the active party will begin to fire in our own body. The observer’s neurons “mirror” what is observed in others.
I remember watching The Pianist at a crowded theatre in 2002. At the end of the film, Wladyslaw Szpilman portrayed by Adrien Brody, played Chopin’s Grande Polonaise. When the camera closed in tight for an extended shot of his hands moving over the piano keyboard, the same neuron groups firing in the pianist were likewise activated in the theatre patrons. At the end of the film, the audience remained seated and staring at the screen in silence, perhaps emotionally exhausted like me. Throughout the film as we’d witnessed actors’ sorrowful looks or weeping on screen, the same neuron groups associated with these facial expressions were also activated in us. What’s more, our emotional neurons connected to those feelings also spark. Visual and auditory cues kickstart these empathetic neurons.
Continue reading “Mindfully Watching and Listening”
Eddie Cantor said, “Slow down and enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss by going too fast. You also miss the sense of where you are going and why. ” I am usually mindful of his advice, but life can become a runaway horse. Even when the source of busyness is something I enjoy, I sometimes I have to take life by the reins and call, “Whoah!” Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — Slowing Down and Savouring the Moment”