I originally wrote this more than six months ago. I thought I had published it but apparently I didn’t AND I didn’t follow through so… now  is the time.

In two-and-a-half weeks I am returning to where my memory of my life narrative began, so I will be consciously prepping for that journey here: out in the open.

My inner-seventh-grader says “ewww. I am an embarrassment.”

What I’m taking on is risky. I keep thinking, “Normal people wouldn’t do this. This is a private thing, possibly embarrassing and ugly.”

Maybe it is because it is risky and has a high possibility of getting ugly that I am doing it.

I have given myself an assignment: to rewrite the narrative that has held me back from expressing my unique gifts and talents so that others may benefit and experienced transformed lives as a result.

I will be writing my way through these experiences using the #5for5BrainDump method for the next few weeks. This morning via text the idea started taking form.

The other night I had a rather distressing moment with one of my daughters and words were said and other words were not said and I could have fallen into a deep muddy mess of well-worn recordings of all my short comings.

Instead I wrote,

“Yes, I am ashamed of my behavior. I said things without thinking and no, I am not proud.”

I took several breaths before I wrote, “I am a mother who makes mistakes some of the time. I am a mother who most of the time does the best she can for her children. I am usually quite conscious with my words and actions and only want the best for not only my children but all children. I fall short from time-to-time.

“I wish I had never said those hurtful words. Unfortunately they were spoken, they were received, and they will be remembered with more electrical charge than more quiet, soft moments of every day love and guidance.

“Today, I am choosing to remember moments of love and focus on creating more of them.”

Later in the night after our argument, I walked into my daughters room and put my hand on her back to feel her breathing. It is a ritual I’ve lived through with each of my children – each of my children who lived.

Today I am choosing to remember moments of love and focus on creating more of them.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and  mixed-media artist whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session or to request she speak at your next event, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

I remembered writing this piece as my mind-heart-spirit took a few deep breaths into the #7MagicWords challenge from Marisa Goudy : I wrote the original poetic essay in 2003. In reviewing Marisa’s prompt now I realize I got it… wrong. Yet it is entirely right.

I’m joining the challenge three days late. On the first day we were to uncover a word that integrates and on day two a word that earths. Mine… integrates. Definitely. I’m sticking with it: LETTERS.

I just completed a modest rewrite on this essay. It is ripe with letters.  I took a joyful classroom memory that integrates my childhood with my now – my passion ever present, continuing.

Here I am, the 7th grade me as seen by the early forties me.

Did a hush fill the dark room as a storm gathered outside or was it in my imagination? I can’t remember exactly.

In the back of the room my fingers dashed steadily across the keyboard, pounding away at the manual typewriter as it spoke clankety clankety clankety ding!

A woosh replaced the clanks as I swiped the typewriter carriage with all the zest of the former girl’s arm wrestling champion from Linden Avenue School, now graduated to the Middle School that sat proudly on top of a circular driveway. The yellow brick walls were sunny with optimism despite the rain drops increased force against the windows providing a counterpoint rhythm to my typing.

Did the ceiling evaporate and a ray of light suddenly connect my hands to heaven?

Something had shifted. It had broken through the physical plane and into my thirteen-year-old being. I had the skill to type without looking at the keyboard thanks to the Tap Tapnick poster on the wall and hours and hours of diligent practice so I was able to scribe the words without looking at my hands. I could close my eyes or stare straight ahead or above the chalk board and continue typing.

I knew the letters were there.

There was never any question.
There were other children in the room tapping away at their machines. I know there was other activity. I remember Mr. Seymour, my English teacher, walking into the room to visit with Mrs. Behrman, the
typing teacher. Right in the midst of the bustle and the buzz of thirty or so typewriters all clanking and dinging and swiping, I was not there at all and I knew the letters were there.

All I had to do was connect my mind, soul and heart to my fingers and words burst forth from knitting the letters together, stitching them into a patchwork of meaning. I was able to translate all the emotion that was rumbling through my early adolescent self onto the page so that the world of the Glen Ridge Middle School and beyond would be able to understand what it felt like to feel so incredibly alive, so
incredibly buoyant.

From reading my words I knew they would be able to understand what it meant to tap into the power of God while writing.

The Topic was simply “Music”. The composer was for the first time a life force greater than my own.

I had tapped into the Zone, the Flow, the Space in the Center where everything is conceived, birthed and buried.

I knew the letters were there. And so was I. And all was well, even if no one ever read those words pumping out of me, the letters were in front of me, within me, surrounding me.

All was well and would be well. I knew the letters were there.

Julie Jordan Scott inspires people to experience artistic rebirth via her programs, playshops, books, performances and simply being herself out in the world.  She is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy-extraordinaire and mixed-media artist  whose Writing Camps and Writing Playgrounds permanently transform people’s creative lives. Watch for the announcement of new programs coming in soon!

To contact Julie to schedule a Writing or Creative Life Coaching Session, call or text her at 661.444.2735.

The next sentence was born from what I wrote yesterday – which after you read this stream of consciousness moment in time, you may see where its roots are.

I can only do “it” in a prescribed way. Follow the rules other people set or die.

I know. This sounds extreme and yet it is how I have oftentimes behaved.

Before I fell into what am I going to call this time?

Before I got lost, I was a great experimenter. I could play and explore and played improve games as a way of life. I continued doing this everywhere except for where it would bring me an income or transform my situation from…

Oh, I am having a hard time finding words.

It is safe, even if I don’t find words.

Even if I can’t unbolt this lock.

When I was in college I was a student manager at a restaurant called The Rathskeller. I worked on weekends when none of the adult management was around and oftentimes I got there and was on my own for at least an hour or so.

One afternoon when I was alone, I got stuck in the elevator. There was no handle from the inside, only from the outside and only accessible through a tiny window I could reach if I stretched really big and maneuvered my body just so and…. On that day, when there was no other option,  freed myself.

Just like right now: the sun came out from behind a cloud just as I wrote that. Just as I said “It is safe even if I don’t find words” I instantly found words.

My timer went off, my five minutes was up about a minute ago and I need to share this, now.

From yesterday’s writing: Just as I am the one who locked myself out of the world and into banishment, I am the one who is now setting myself free. I am the one who is choosing an active trust and then actually taking the steps rather than talking about taking the steps. Read yesterday’s post by clicking here. 

This is an exploration of self via free flowing personal narrative: this specifically is sharing everyday, in the now. A sort of 5 minute meditation upon that day or the day before…. we’ll see how each day shapes up without insisting it conform to any particular shape beyond writing for 5 minutes… go. write. now.

I’m using the “5for5BrainDump” model which grants a person the gift of 5 minutes of timed writing to dump whatever comes onto the page without editing, forethought or judgment. What appears on the page and out of the rambling mind is remarkable.

These thoughts are posted unedited and will occasionally include an extra session or two to get to the depth the person feels necessary. Sometimes, the person (in many cases myself) backs away from the writing because… it is uncomfortable, she feels like something is about to crack open or she becomes bored and drifts away momentarily.

It is important to give license to stop and continue, stumble and continue, rant and scream and cry… and continue. This continuing is where the transformation happens.