Inspired by SARK

Wow. Just spent some time listening to an amazing writer and artist talking about framing the act of writing as a delight rather than a chore. A lot of empowering information and techniques--the one that jumped out at me is to establish an inner care system that gives your inner critic(s) a job to do to keep them occupied while you write. A great cure for those kinds of internal nagging distractions.

I've seen the technique before; however, this is the first time I've ever tried it. Havi Brooks of The Fluent Self regularly talks to her "monsters,"  and you can see enlightenment unfold before your very eyes.

In SARK's game, the first step is to empower and activate an inner "wise self" to support you. You then invite an aspect (specific inner critic) of yourself that's causing you pain or anxiety into a safe circle with your wise self. Initiate an interview with the aspect that needs attention, then listen and respond to what it says.

Here's what happened:

Me: Hi, there. Would you like to come sit with me and Wise Self?

Scared self: I dunno. Why do you want to talk to me?

Me: Because I feel like you're yelling at me, crowding me, and trying to take over.

Scared self: Well, duh! I have to make sure you're not going to get hurt!

Me: So you are concerned about me being in pain?

Scared self: Of course I am! It HURTS! And I don't want you to hurt.

Me: Wow. You are soooo strong. You really must want to protect me.

Scared self: Yes! I do! You've had enough pain in your life. I have to keep it away from your door.

Me: What if I were to tell you that I've learned things from my pain, things that mean a lot to me. Things that help me not be so frightened or hurt?

Scared self: Well, I guess that's good. But I still don't want you to hurt because you're writing about it.

Me: What if I could actually ENJOY writing about the good things I've learned from pain?

Scared self: Would that mean that you don't need me any more? 

Me: Oh, no! I will always need and cherish your support and protection. But sometimes I think I can put some stuff out there that will definitely make me feel better, and might just help someone else feel better.

Scared self: Does that mean you won't listen to me ever again?

Me: Oh, absolutely not. I need you to be here to help me watch out for UNNECESSARY pain. Like when I feel afraid of things that can't really hurt me. Like when I let other people determine how I "should" feel.


Scared self: Like when I yell really loudly when someone says things about you that aren't even true?

Me: Yes! Sometimes you're so loud that it hurts my ears!

Scared self: Oh, no! I don't want to hurt you!

Me: Hey, Scared self, have you ever met Wise Self?

Scared self: Oh, I've seen her around. I don't know what good she is, though.

Me: She's just like you, she doesn't want to see me get hurt.

Scared self: That's good. How does she do that?

Me: Well, she's really, really smart. She wants me to succeed. She helps me think through problems. She helps me feel more powerful. She likes me a lot And she really likes you a lot.

Scared self: She does?

Me: Yes. She likes you so much she wants to work with you to help keep me even safer.

Scared self: She DOES? Even when I yell and hurt your ears?

Me: Especially when you do that. As a matter of fact, she has an idea for both of us.

Scared self: Oh, yeah? Uh, hi, Wise Self.

Wise self: Scared self, how would you feel about having a little more fun protecting Me?

Scared self: OK, I guess. What would I have to do?

Wise self: What about instead of yelling at Me you talk to the thing that's causing pain?

Scared self: Like, shouting, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Wise self: That sounds pretty good. How would that make you feel?

Scared self: I would feel like I was chasing the hurt away.

Wise self: Instead of shouting, would you be willing to talk to the pain and find out if it truly wants to hurt Me? That would help Me learn more about herself as well as protect her.

Scared self: I don't know about that. I've never interviewed pain before. I don't know if I could get close enough to it.

Wise self: We could practice in here, where it's safe. We could talk to the pain through a window, maybe. It couldn't come in, but we could have a cozy little chat.

Scared self: Could we have tea and bikkies?

Me: Ooooh, that sounds delightful!

Scared self: Really? You wouldn't be more scared?

Me: Not if you and Wise Self were sitting with me. We could ask the pain all kinds of questions and find out whether it really means to hurt me or not, and see if we could learn something from it. Even see if we could have a little fun with it. Maybe even ask it to join us, if it promises to behave. And then we could brew a cuppa Dimbula Oolong and get some buttery bikkies and have a Real Tea Party!


Scared self: OK, I'm beginning to like this. I don't feel so much like yelling at you now that I know you and Wise Self love you and want you to be happy and productive.

Me: That would be the very best thing in the world you could do to keep me safe. Thank you so much for visiting. I'll get you a comfy armchair to relax in by the window so you can talk to any pain that might show up before it can overpower me. Would you like that?

Scared self: Yes! Yes, I would! As long as the tea and bikkies are within reach, that is!

Me: Great! Just let me know when you need a refill!

I am not alone. Thanks, Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, thanks, Pace and Kyeli, thanks Havi!

Slouching Toward Retirement

As opposed to working. Which I will always do. Wondering if I should chronicle that long, drawn-out affair known as retiring from the university. It can last for years. But hopefully not. Because I have happier and healthier work to do.

I have two "katas" I perform when I can't see the path ahead. I consult the I Ching, and I run a couple of cognitive behavior thought records in my head. With a reading from the Ching and a reality check on my feelings and how to be thoughtful as well as psychic--that's a mojo power combination.

Thing is, I need to keep reminding myself that Rome was neither built nor torn down in a day, and to apply the gris-gris liberally for best results.

I need me some Dr. John. Got to sit in a recording session with him umpteen decades ago, a lovely gentleman, very professional and kicked everybody's ass around the studio with piano chops with lots of red eye gravy. Just so good. Noodled around with classical stuff in between takes. The man doesn't just have good hands, his voice IS the voice of the bayou.

So what do I want to do when I grow up? Pretty much what I'm doing now. Writing, editing, accessibilifying to the limit of my tech skills and tools, rescue a couple of shepherd-type dogs, continue to work with gifted people, to find more gifted people and play with them.

Havi's personal ads have inspired me to revisit the technique. I've been working on what my most comfortable living accommodations would look like. I've written a personal ad or two over the years, one just because I wanted my wonderful Sabine back, and had to make one last desperate call to her in print.Including aging in place. What would my ideal world be like?

Personal ad v.01

Farmette somewhere within 60 miles of Austin cheap enough for me to manage along with dogs, herbs for women, cats, chickens, maybe a goat or 2, an UP TO DATE RIG and decent connection, veggie/companion flower garden. Good thing marigolds are hardy--cheap bug repellant. Doing something on the Internet, blogging, writing, editing. Natural physical/mental therapy for stress from state job and keeping the joints in shape as long as possible. Close enough to drive in comfortably for rehearsals/concerts/mischief. Gets a little misty after that...

My vision changed drastically in two tiny, short weeks.

Personal ad v.02

See above, except with big honkin' add-ons of COOPERATIVE ENDEAVORS. To be perfectly frank (well, not Frank, but, you know), the best part of my job is working with really, really smart people who are FUN TO WORK WITH. Not to mention the awesome technical and graphic skills. So v.02 is .01 on geek power. How to build a good sandwich. How to design a gorgeous, compliant Web site. Brought to you by super-nice folks who'll be sure to give you a good time with a great design... Even considering cooperative housing (a la hippie commune, NOT retirement facility). Time to percolate and come up with a plan...

Just keep writing.

One year ago today

Dutch farmhouse in the rain

I wrote a post titled "What a Long, Strange, HOT Austin it's been." That was the year the electrical wiring in my apartment finally disintegrated, and it was 100 degrees then, too. Found out today that the AC unit that was put in last April can't be replaced until Friday, which means emergency and/or alternative living conditions. If this isn't global warming--set to break the hottest summer on record--it's on a tall tree on a high hill right next to it. On the other hand, summer of 2007 was unnaturally verdant.

Not a day goes by that I don't completely relate to the fact that the average life span for a woman in Texas as late as the 1940's was only 40 years. I would not survive if I had to do hard labor these last few summers.

Oddly, Havi Brooks at The Fluent Self (who lives in rainy Portland, OR, and even they are having startling heat), threw out a single-cell writing exercise. Which began with Naming The Moon, and progressed to Naming The Rain.

Triggered a frenzy of surfing. Havi helps and attracts incredible creative people, and one comment on rain hit me between the eyes. It was from Barbara J Carter, an artist who creates divine dot paintings. Now, having become as one with the Aboriginal culture as was humanly possible while I was in Australia, I resonated most with the Mythical Dreaming and dot paintings. She must be a Gemini, because she does two styles--brilliant organic landscapes, and soft abstract geometrics. Her work evokes the ancient Aboriginal form on a spiritual level as much as a visual one.

Back to the rain bit, in the middle of gorgeous outpourings (sorry!) of wonderful wetness, Barbara says, (and I hope I don't commit a serious electronic faux pas by copying it here)

Southern California is the State of Perpetual Drought. What is this “rain” that you speak of? Water falling from the sky? How odd.

Well. Confluences abound. Me sitting here in the Texas MegaDrought, beseeching La Lluvia to bring us relief. Memories of living in California--my daughter was born in 1976, a historical drought. We had to stop using our well water--fecal count goes way up in a drought. The positive side is that 1976 Northern California wines are exquisite. A drought produces higher concentrated sugar in the grape.

That's the comment that took me to Ms. Carter's Web site and to the magical dot paintings.

Tonight I am going to dream about rain. And gather all my writing about rain and give it name.The Blue Gum Rain in Australia. The Rain of 8,000 Lightning Bolts, Sydney Harbour. The Rain of Fourteen Lashings. Kettle Drumming with Rain Sticks. A Frog-Strangler Rain. And a Texas favorite, It's Raining Harder than a Three-Pizzled Bull on a Flat Rock Rain. The Let's Throw Out a Little Light-Weight Shit and See What The Rain Washes Away. My First Hurricane Rain. Southwestern Double Sun Dog Rain. Rocket-Shaped Hail Rain.

There we go with memories again. I am quite sure I could fill a chapbook with the Names of Rain. Thanks, Havi! I desperately need rain, and your game is the Rain of Redemption and Refreshment.

Go read those posts and see what I commented. Hint: it's about Wittgenstein, language, and meaning. Oh, yeah, about Naming, too.


Polder in the rain near Edam, The Netherlands