Anne. D - Art & Self-Expression -

Writing is another one of the disciplines I would like to combine with painting and other forms of self-expression in creative projects but also during classes, workshops, private sessions and retreats.

THE DIFFERENT ASPECTS OF WRITING

Writing is like breathing for me. When I don't do it for a while, I feel like I am dying. But perhaps that is already very obvious to you from looking at this website. (lol!)

What I have noticed recently is that I have to practice different kinds of writing in order to find balance and feel more peace within myself. The ones that are essential to me are: regular "journal" writing, writing that I share with others, and creative writing. Each one fulfills a particular need of mine, and they all give me tremendous joy.

Daily Communion with Myself

Journal writing is not about recounting my day. It is more about purging and reflecting, letting words come out as they wish, both from my conscious and subconscious mind - and yet, it feels very "mindless"; Very much like the "morning pages" Julia Cameron recommends in "The Artist's Way"; Or how the "Freedom Writers" started their journey (if you haven't seen this movie yet, check it out, it is AMAZING! www.freedomwritersfoundation.org). If I forget to write for some time, one day, I realize that I have been missing something: a much needed cleansing of the mind and emotions.

Connecting with Others

Blog writing and sharing via email with others makes me feel connected. It is one of the important ways in which I share of myself, also like this website. As a child and teenager, I was blessed to have had 2 very close people in my life with whom I shared extensive correspondence via snail-mail for many years. This also gave us the opportunity to be "crafty" and creative on paper, decorating letters and so on. Nowadays, I don't know anyone doing this anymore, and I really miss it.

But sharing of myself with others through writing still feels like an urge that I must follow whenever it feels "right". I like it best when the people I write to have the same urge to respond, but it is not the case too often. In the last few years, I have slowly learned to let go of my expectations in this area. Because this is directly connected to my "old wound", it hasn't been easy, but this website and my blog seem to present me with two exciting alternatives.

Creative Writing

What I call creative writing is in fact another kind of 'mindless' writing, but unlike journal writing, it is not about purging. It's more about expressing creativity and my own sense of beauty. A world of dreams, imagination, and fantasy perhaps - but not necessarily. It is when I get out of the way and am able to stay in the flow without trying to analyze my logic and grammar, and forget about spelling. It is a time when I leave the "critique" at the door, as an un welcomed guest. It is not always "good" writing to be sure. In fact, it is rarely good writing. But it doesn't matter. It's not the point. Creative writing can only come for me once I have first "purged" with my daily pages.

Channeling the flow...

All writing is best done when I am able to get out of the way and I don't think too much. Which reminds me that there is another kind of writing that I haven't mentioned yet: it is what feels like a kind of "channeling". When my mind is so clear and uncluttered that I can write about my "higher" visions for the "future", projects, and expanded feelings. I always feel extremely energized and alive once I have written like this. And it makes me feel like I can tackle just about anything in life.

The Sensuality of Writing

Then, there is the material and sensual aspect of writing that I also love: I write on everything, with everything, and everywhere I can. I write in my billion of journals and note books, computer files and blogs, letters, emails, and so on... Many note-books I start and I never finish because in the meantime, I have found a new note-book, or a new project that I like for different reasons. It's a bit of a funny thing, but it's like communicating with people: each one inspires me to write differently.

I also use many different kinds of pens and writing tools. Preferably those which add color and feel really good for me to write with. I simply need a great deal of abundance when it comes to the creative realm. It is the way in which I spoil my inner-child - the inner-artist - who I lovingly indulge since I can still remember too well the times when I didn't. The stark austerity of the Capricorn in me has to make room for the exuberance of the Leo Rising when it comes to art supplies! And that's just the way it is.

WRITING SAMPLES

Below are some samples of writing that I did in the last years. I put them here hoping to inspire those who feel shy about writing and sharing what they wrote: Writing does not have to be great literature to be fun. Writing, like painting - and many other artistic endeavors - is not the privilege of a few, it is available to ALL; and there is no need for a goal other than the simple pleasure of doing it.

Genesis

As I stare at the page
my mind goes blank
A white surface of no thickness
floating in space
like a taut
sheet over my thoughts
Faint images barely reach the edge
of my consciousness
Ideas to be caught
colors to be sought and retained no longer
than the memory of a dream.
Who said it was easy
to shape
anything
as shapeless
as the fog
Words, colors, and life…
Latent powers waiting to be born
Already there
even before being formed.
Come on now
give it another try
Stumble and get up
Don’t give up
Allow your whole body to sink
into the process of making
for it is the process of living.

Oakland, July 2002

In this moment
nothing crosses my mind
All is suspended in time
Even the barking of my dog
floating in the air
as if it had always been there
An entry in my log
Nothing is mine
Only am
a channel of sorts
That creator
who draws from nothingness
in that moment
of being
ness

Oakland, March 2003

Sickness

Bubbles of fuzz in a fish tank
No sound - as in a vacuum
And yet this ringing in my ear
uncomfortable echo to all sounds
amplified in my spiraling tube of sorts
fine coated little follicles
catching sounds and dust
but mostly this ringing
a good companion to my itchy, burning eyes
oozing goo relentlessly
That’s the power of now!

Oakland, March 2003

There will be a day
When I cry
Could there be a day
Going by
Quietly
With no creation
Because I forgot to open that door
Or is it because I chose not to
Thinking of other things I’d better do
With no why
That could be the day
When I die.

Oakland, March 2003

Words on a page
Randomly arranged
As grains of sand on a beach
Each one shining of its own importance
Only if looked at from a certain angle
And yet organized precisely
In its own crystalline structure
Part of a whole whose infinity it cannot fathom
Maybe aware of its neighbors
But terribly humble in its tiny presence
Insignificant yet so positively important
For without it
There would be no beach.

Oakland, April 2003

What are the rules?
There are none.
The mind devises some
In the hope of justifying
Its aimless wanderings
Complete freedom is scary
To the creative one
Undesirable even
If there is no prison
There is no escape
If I can’t escape
Then I won’t be free after all
This is the absurdity
Of it all.
The intelligent mind
Devises a prison from which it can almost
Get out
But not quite
So it can marvel at its talents
But it can’t be too easy
Or else
There would be no merit.

Oakland, April 2003

The golden wave...

It was a wave… just like that. She couldn’t say much more. A golden wave coming from the depths. Some place previously unknown to her. How soft, and gentle… sparkly, shiny, light, and so delightful. Was it an image she had seen before? No, it felt like something completely new to her. Never seen, never experienced. So she let the wave come… trusting it would not drown her but instead soothe her. Perhaps there was too much going on. Perhaps life was not supposed to be so complicated and difficult after all. She was in search of simplicity. Depth, but simplicity. Immediacy. Availability for the moment. Crazy twists and turns getting mingled with the essentials. But what were the essentials? No more she could say. Her world had been turned upside down. And sometimes, simple things were losing their meaning. Tired. She felt so tired. Almost as if she had already come to the end of her rope. She felt close to dying at times, and a feeling that it would bring her some relief from the heaviness she could feel in her body and mind. But then, there was this wave… the light golden wave glittering with joy, and all that was left in that moment was simply that moment. Nothing more. Nothing else. The end of wondering…

October, 2007

This website is a work in progress. When time allows, I would like to add new writing. Please come back to visit!

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