There is still space available for my workshop, Growth Through Creative Spiritual Practice. I’d love to see you for an evening of poetry and art with playful writing and/or painting. No experience necessary, it is all creative play. Come and enjoy.
Visit www.wisdomwayscenter.org or call 651-696-2787.
GREETINGS,
I hope this finds you well in this fast moving time. I write today to give you the story of the ups and downs of my book publishing journey.
The process of compiling poems and art for a book started out like the 8-year-old me riding my bike downhill, enjoying the breeze in my hair, feeling like I could even let go of the handlebars and stretch out my arms; suddenly, I find I am going uphill— then up some more. Will this never end? I panicked last week, and a few tears fell with a stranger, on the other end of an email, who was simply trying to design and format my book, as I began to second guess my book printing decisions.
But first, back to the beginning: Digging through my poems and deciding which of my beauties are good enough to go into a book was fun, but it also brought a great deal of loud noise into my head—screaming all the should and should not’s that want to sabotage any new idea. I made my way around the noise and started to put my gems in order, initiated revisions, and cleaned up punctuation. I researched heavily, how to publish a book, and decided to hire an editor— the all-time best decision I made for this project. I chose her for a variety of reasons, but being a former English teacher moved her right up to the top of the list.
Her name is Sage. She took the entire manuscript, sharpened her metaphorical red pencil, and went to work leaving bold marks in the tiniest of spaces. As I was now biking back up hill, I cried out, “I don’t even know how to write a sentence.” You might have thought I would slink out of class with a D, but I didn’t; it turned out to be a fun and educating process. I enjoyed my writing buddy for a couple of weeks as our emails flew back and forth with laughter, encouragement, and suggestions. Then, dusting off her hands, Sage was done; she cleaned out her desk and went home—as she should; I was left on my own to step forward and figure it out.
Then I found Dave (the one on the other end of my email breakdown and my equally best decision) to help me create the cover and design the interior. I rode downhill again as he took my ideas, arranged them, and artfully brought all the elements together with his own flair. The cover, back, and spine were born, and I delighted in them.
Now we are uphill again, maybe the steepest so far, with me feeling, in various moments, like I will not reach the summit. “Whose great idea was it to write a book?” “I made a mistake.” “This is more than I can handle.” “I don’t know what I am doing.” This last one being the most trueful statement. Every little task is monumental in my beginner’s mind. I can’t say I am going downhill yet, but I keep taking in information that will inform me as to when I am ready; and, for a bit, I might just ride on flat terrain.
I know I have more hills to climb but I will write of them another time. For now, I feel grateful for the journey—even as hard as it, at times, presents itself. Even through all the losses and the changes this year has brought us, I find momentum.
Keep your pen handy!
Janis
Greetings,
How did I end up compiling a book of my art and poetry at this time in my life?
My summer art and poetry exhibition were well received with many requests from longtime supporters, as well as people I was meeting for the first time, for me to create a book that could be kept in hand to ponder the poetry and the art at leisure. I decided to follow the lead and I began a journey into learning what it takes to self-publish a book, besides, well, writing the book. (More on that wild ride another time.)
I was into a deep research dive when my sister-in-law, Cynthia, was diagnosed with terminal glioblastoma brain cancer and given possibly three months to live. This news numbed my brain while I tried to absorb what this meant for my 61-year-old sister-in-law with new grandbabies to hold and to love, my brother and my nephews who were trying to understand and accept this reality, and all of us who loved and cared for her.
A couple of summers ago at Cynthia and Bill’s cabin, after she and I returned from a robust kayak journey, Cynthia strongly suggested that I write a book about my El Camino experience from 2017. I gave the idea serious thought, but Covid hit, art became my life, and it went on the back burner. Now, it turns out the poetry and art book captured my imagination. As I write and edit, I still see Cynthia at the cabin and hear her speak to me of her vision and her belief in my ability to write. I now draw on that vision to give me momentum.
We all have people in our lives who hold up a mirror for us to better see ourselves. People who have looked upon us and have seen what we have not, or what we have held with uncertainty or even fear. Cynthia, a writer of short stories she hoped to publish, left us after a short two and a half months, but she still reminds me to speak up in support—naming what I see in another’s potential, in a loving and caring way. Is there someone who has influenced you in a way that you did not expect? I would love to hear from you.
The El Camino story is still cooking—gaining steam, making some bubbles.
Keep your pen handy..
Words are the most powerful thing in the universe… Words are containers. They contain faith, or fear, and they produce after their kind.”
—Charles Capps
I sit and stare at a blank screen trying to conjure up words, craft a sentence, develop a theme. I find nothing new arises, except the awareness that I have used so very many words in my writing over these past days.
Early in the week, my words wove into a tribute to my mother on the 100th anniversary of her birth, followed by my El Camino memories crafting into a broader memoir, then continuing the arduous task of writing my life and complicated ancestry into a more developed timeline in story form for my kids and grandkids.
I realize that within this feeling of empty there resides a deep satisfaction in the artistry of words, flowing like a rhythmic dance, whether they mean anything to anyone else does not intrude. It is the feeling when I am lost in painting and it all connects, when the spices are just right in the dish crafted for dinner, or the tree, the sun, and the shadow align in perfect symmetry for the photo I snap.
Then, there is a moment of empty, a day of rest, or possibly the eternity hidden within the pause between each breath—a long moment to take it in, deep within, and ready myself for the next flash of inspiration. We can’t consume so fully every day. We need rest, contemplation, review, as a time to pull it all together and see the whole.
The truth of this comes to me as it has been a span of four years since I walked El Camino and the full review of my blogs, journal, and post trip review, reveal to me what I could not see then. They point to where I am today. They beg me to go deeper into an event revealing something in me or other that I could not see before. The pause has deepened my experience. The space of time has opened my heart.
Today, empty is a feeling of full.
