Once upon a time, a man named John Howell introduced me to the idea that people often teach what they need to learn. That idea struck a satisfying chord inside of me, and it continues to resonate. It has been true in my life.
I needed to learn to process my past, so I became a therapist. I needed to learn to play, so I became a Gymboree teacher. I needed to learn how to sing with other people, so I became a choir director. I need to learn how to consistently generate songs and stories, so I teach writing.
Writing is one of my oldest and deepest loves, but sometimes we are opposing magnets. I write a sentence and I cross it out. I write another sentence and I get a snack. I write a couple more and I have to make a phone call, or check my email or facebook or watch a rerun of Criminal Minds. I am capable of elevating not writing to an art form. Sometimes I just can’t settle in.
Chronic writer’s block, and the commitment to not allowing it to stop me from writing, has taught me some things. I learned that if I waited for inspiration, I would wait for seventeen years. I learned that if I tried not to offend anyone, I would not touch anyone. I learned that inspiration rewards me when I show up and do the work. I learned to allow images to lead me. I learned to play with words.
I enjoy being surprised by the pen in my moving hand. It is like tapping into dreaming. I watch the unfolding. When it is working well, it feels like magic, but the magic comes in the doing. I can’t think up the magic. I have to write it. I have to let go, and play.
What do you need to learn?
I needed to learn to process my past, so I became a therapist. I needed to learn to play, so I became a Gymboree teacher. I needed to learn how to sing with other people, so I became a choir director. I need to learn how to consistently generate songs and stories, so I teach writing.
Writing is one of my oldest and deepest loves, but sometimes we are opposing magnets. I write a sentence and I cross it out. I write another sentence and I get a snack. I write a couple more and I have to make a phone call, or check my email or facebook or watch a rerun of Criminal Minds. I am capable of elevating not writing to an art form. Sometimes I just can’t settle in.
Chronic writer’s block, and the commitment to not allowing it to stop me from writing, has taught me some things. I learned that if I waited for inspiration, I would wait for seventeen years. I learned that if I tried not to offend anyone, I would not touch anyone. I learned that inspiration rewards me when I show up and do the work. I learned to allow images to lead me. I learned to play with words.
I enjoy being surprised by the pen in my moving hand. It is like tapping into dreaming. I watch the unfolding. When it is working well, it feels like magic, but the magic comes in the doing. I can’t think up the magic. I have to write it. I have to let go, and play.
What do you need to learn?