Creative Life Midwife

Inspiring Artistic Rebirth

Archives for April 2020

What are You Looking Forward to in May?

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In a field of lavender, we begin our celebration of National Meditation Month. The banner states that claim and adds "blending poetry and meditation to create, make and live a more mindful, artfilled life."

I learned this morning May is National Meditation Month. Seeing how I had so much fun with April being National Poetry Month and March being Women’s History Month there must be something to woo my creative senses while at the same time connect me to something larger than me in the Virginia Woolf room pushing on letter keys to create some semblance of meaning during this strangely unfamiliar time we are living through right now.

In my world of no accidents, it makes perfect sense that May is for Meditation. My word of the month is Centering – that happened because I was reading a book about centering I had bought at a used book sale who knows when and the concept shouted “this is me!” and here I am, in the midst of being separate together with you and everyone else except my daughter.

Meditation and poetry is centering.

The planning me wonders, “How shall we optimize these wild synchronicities?”

The creative balanced with planning me says, “Well, naturally, you take poetry that you love by women which you are and you read a poem and allow the line that most centers you to be the focal point of wither a walking or sitting meditation every day in May!’

From Jane Huffman's poem comes the first line for meditation: "Like a pain, the truth is mine." It is from Ms. Huffman's poem. "The Rest" which you may find a link to in the article.

“Well, naturally” scoffs my “There must be a challenge facing me that I may gallantly solve!” or something like that and I realize I love this plan that for me sounds both a pure pleasure and a bit of stretch in daily commitment.

Tonight and until tomorrow I am focusing a line of poetry from “The Rest” by Jane Huffman, that goes like this: “Like a pain, the truth is mine.”

We will also be sharing videos like the one below, essays and poems and more written from the meditations and poetry.

The image is a picnic basket and the poem is a meditation itself - a villanelle written by Adrienne Su, who when hosting a party notices her guests were throwing away the "disposable" chop sticks she offered that were not, in her world, disposable at all.

Images will be posted daily on Instagram and on the Writing Camp with JJS Facebook page and in the Word-Love Poetry Community. Lots of support for you to grow and play and experience peace, calm as you create, make and life a more mindful, art-filled life in May.

That sounds like a heavenly way to spend May. Perhaps it does to you, too.

Tell me in the comments. How was your April? What do you look forward to in May?

Julie Jordan Scott sits on her porch drinking coffee from a Lowell Observatory mug

Julie JordanScott has been writing since before she was literate by dictating her thoughts to her mother and then copying in thick crayons onto construction paper. She was a pioneer in epublishing and continues to reach readers through her blog, best selling books, greeting cards and her essays and poems in anthologies. Join her for one of her upcoming #5for5BrainDump programs or an upcoming writing circle or writing for social media programs.

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Beating Writer’s Block in One Quick Visit to Google Land: Don’t Give Up: There is Even a Video!

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Julie JordanScott is ready to teach about ending writer's block and even having fun while doing it. There is even a video to watch with the same image on it!

I was so excited to sit down at the keyboard today and write: I had a nice, healthy swath of time to write – finally – and I sat down with my keyboard and then – nothing.

So I turned on a podcast, which isn’t smart because language just gets in the way of me creating my own narrative. When I am hearing someone else’s narrative in my ear as I attempt to write myself, nothing happens but itchy discomfort and nothing constructive as far as me creating content.

What listening to language does is moves me to get up and declutter rather than sit down and write.

I could declutter.

It would be smart to declutter but no, I will not declutter.

I wanted to use this rare wide swath of time to write.


I turned to YouTube, my favorite source of instrumental music. I was recommended jazz music, a book club with Simon Sinek, an upcoming livestream so I could become more financially successful or….. Willpower.

I clicked on the Jazz music but before I heard music there was an advertisement meant to take me away from what I wanted to hear: pure musical notes, not more information about conspiracy theorists or anything, please.

Pure musical notes, no matter how mediocre at this point.

Finally, mediocre jazz and from the ends of my fingers to the keyboard. Nothing.

I turned to Charles Bukowski who wrote, “writing about writing block is better than not writing at all.”

Ray Bradbury joins the conversation. He talks about writing everyday and then adds, “Read intensely.”

Does Ray want me to pick up that book I was reading earlier today instead of sitting at the keyboard attempting to write?

Does any woman except Maya Angelou (who I appreciate a lot) have anything to say on the subject?

“Almost all good writings begin with terrible first efforts” so sayeth Anne Lamott. “You need to start somewhere.”

I wasn’t wild about the last book I read by Anne Lamott, but she has written so much I have enjoyed I am entering into a secret pact with her she knows nothing about:

To Anne, I pledge I am going to write five sentences about random topics I find by googling my own name and seeing what comes after…Julie is…..1

  1. “Julie is her name.” (From a singer named Julie London who I have never heard of until just now.)

My parents named me Julie after careful consideration of other names such as Joanne, Jill and maybe Jane – they were concerned, after all, that I might get teased for the combination of “Julie Jordan.” I didn’t get teased but I did endure many teachers singing to me on the first day of school with me acting as if I had never heard that song with my name in it ever before.”

  • “Julie is underappreciated.” From Urban Dictionary.

When someone finally notices you are uniquely fabulous, you don’t stop to google them or ask for a reference check, or interview them about their political or religious views but perhaps I should have on that fateful day I met you-know-who.

  • Julie was the first child Kelly and Delaney met at their first Kidsave event.

I don’t believe in happy endings.

  • Julie passed away peacefully at her home on Monday morning, April 6, 2020, surrounded by her loving family.

See what I mean? A woman with my name but seven years younger than I am died a few weeks ago leaving her husband named Kenneth and three children.

  • “Julie is a popular French first name which is originally derived from the Latin Julia that could mean youthful, soft-haired, gorgeous or vivacious.”

From this Julie is… I would prefer the latter two meanings, especially if “known to be wise, intuitive and inciteful” was included in the mix.

What I noticed, however, in finding five different paths to take with my writing I actually found more: I could take most of these branches of words and write at least two or three different beginnings and an infinite number of endings.

Next time you have nothing to write about, google your name and “is” – take the first couple and then scroll until you find something you find slightly appealing or even vaguely appealing with the smallest bit of tweaking.

At first glance, the obituary felt oddly familiar given the names and number of children but from the other Julie’s life, I could go very deeply into my own experiences.

The “I don’t believe in happy endings” was visceral. I will pick that up and run with it.

If your name was Julie, which of these five would you write from first?

I challenge you at some point in the next five days to google “your first name is” and use at least one of them as a writing prompt.

Now I want to nap. That was invigorating and tiring.

Please let me know how it goes – and watch the video if you would like to see some of how my inner process works when it isn’t just written on the page. 🙂

If your name was Julie, which of these five would you write from first?

I challenge you at some point in the next five days to google “your first name is” and use at least one of them as a writing prompt.

Now I want to nap. That was invigorating and tiring.

Creative Life Midwife: WRiter, Speaker, Mom, Artist.... and owner of this blog/website.

Julie JordanScott has been writing since before she was literate by dictating her thoughts to her mother and then copying in thick crayons onto construction paper. She was a pioneer in epublishing and continues to reach readers through her blog, best selling books, greeting cards and her essays and poems in anthologies. Join her for one of her upcoming #5for5BrainDump programs or an upcoming writing circle or writing for social media programs.

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How Seeing the Everyday, Ordinary Stuff That Surrounds You Differently Suddenly Become Magical

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One of the earliest exercises I created for people in my writing programs is to pick up an ordinary object in their space and take a mere sixty seconds to experience it and describe the object. Once the object is noted, we check in regarding the experience.

pink balls of yarn are the basis for this quote from "Let Evening Come" by Jane Kenyon. "Let the cricket take up chafing as a woman takes up her needles and her yarn. Let evening come." This is Inspiration for National Poetry Month (and beyond) from Creative Life Midwife Julie Jordan Scott

Ordinary objects like waste baskets and water bottles come alive with close inspection. When a person takes time to notice differently, the associations, the appreciations and gratitude rises up oftentimes in surprising ways.

To read the poem “Let Evening Come” by Jane Kenyon, click the link here to read it in its entirety.

To “let evening come” (or morning or midafternoon) in your own life, take a moment now to do follow the prompt and see what words flow as a result.

Pink yarn balls are above the writing in this image, encouraging people to write of this: "Write what you notice around your home, your yard, your street. Allow the ordinariness of objects and events in your ordinary life stir your words. Don't describe these objects and experiences as you always have. Let the overlooked details surprise you." by the Creative Life Midwife Julie JordanScott

To rephrase the prompt “Write what you notice around your home, your yard, your street. Allow the ordinariness of objects and events in your ordinary life stir your words. Don’t describe these objects and experiences as you always have. Let the overlooked details surprise you.

Take 5 minutes at a time and write, just write. Allow your pencil or pen or fingers on the keyboard float across your page.

In the comments, share one or two or three ordinary objects you might enjoy getting to know more clearly. Even this one simple action will enrich and deepen your appreciation for the everyday right now.

Julie JordanScott creates content to inspire creative people to lead more satisfying lives even during this pandemic. Walking and sitting at the Panorama Bluffs helps her feel centered.

Julie JordanScott has been writing since before she was literate by dictating her thoughts to her mother and then copying in thick crayons onto construction paper. She was a pioneer in epublishing and continues to reach readers through her blog, best selling books, greeting cards and her essays and poems in anthologies. Join her for one of her upcoming #5for5BrainDump programs or an upcoming writing circle or writing for social media programs.

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What We Can Do: Grief in this Present Moment

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Woman sitting on a high pole, contemplating the ocean in front of her. Questions: Shall we name this unnameable presence? Who is brave enough to speak, write and be with it?

“Grief seems to create losses within us that reach beyond our awareness–we feel as if we’re missing something that was invisible and unknown to us while we had it, but now painfully gone.”

Brene Brown

Brene Brown quote on an abstract water color background: "Grief seems to create losses within us that reach beyond our awareness - we feel as if we're missing something that was invisible and unknown to us while we had it, but now painfully gone." How does this quote inspire your poetry and creativity?

Have you had this feeling lately?

You aren’t quite able to name what is wrong, what is missing, what is causing you to feel wobbly energetically, but you know there is something you can’t quite name there.

We can’t quite put our finger on what it is and in not being able to name it, this feeling, this missing substance and form hovers invisibly yet obviously causing emotional bleeding inside. It was only several weeks into the pandemic experts recognized grief as a factor for most of us: grieving the “small” losses of convenience, everyday expectations, “normal” life as well as the larger experiential losses. Students reaching toward graduation unable to participate in ceremonies and celebrations. Separation from family and friends, the pain of not being able to ease another’s suffering with physical presence. As the pandemic continued, we felt more of a state of “languishing” – a new word for many – that Adam Grant brought forward in a New York Times article.

PROMPT FOR CONVERSATION, CONTEMPLATION AND CREATIVITY: naming things to gain insights

Water color image with a prompt based on Brene Brown quote and the Elizabeth Bishop Poem, "One Art" The Prompt says "Consider a moment in time when you didn't have a name for something that is now familiar. Write about coming to know the name. Begin getting to know your currently nameable. Write more.

I notice now as I paused to write and name the unnameable I haven’t even mentioned death. The constant, the numbers of deaths on the rise due to Covid19 some feel more comfortable ignoring – even as the reality is the virus we are fighting is highly contagious. Like cancer, it isn’t always lethal yet its lethal nature is a possibility continues to exist.

We are living in a grief and loss container of unknown depth and length. We have no time-line and we are all inexperienced at living in and through a pandemic.

There are no currently living experts who have “been through this before” to show us the way.

Maybe our first grief to practice is simply letting go of the need to define, to have or create a definitive timeline, to be able to set exactly the goal you would most like to set that has any variable outside your home.

PROMPT FOR CONVERSATION, CONTEMPLATION AND CREATIVITY: Insert “Seasons” rather than weeks.

Water color image with a Prompt to start a list of "Small losses" you have experienced during the last few weeks. Free writing about three of them, specifically to ease the pain.

There is no container for us to pour our grief into, we still don’t know exactly what the new normal will look like.

Learning about trust in a different time of uncertainty: Pregnancy after stillbirth – knowing grief and loss is a risk worth taking.

The only slightly similar experience I have had personally is the cycle I experienced in earlier adulthood of longing for pregnancy, experiencing pregnancy only to experience death and then longing even more for pregnancy, waiting during pregnancy with a finite yet unknowable experiential path – and willingly putting myself through this cycle four more times.

My “after stillbirth” pregnancy was with Katherine. I remember holding the pregnancy test – absolutely positive – with a slight moment of inexplicable joy followed by ferocious anger and terror as I threw the test against the bathroom wall.

“What have I done?” I shouted to the emptiness.

My only personal experience with pregnancy prior to this was death and more pain than I knew was possible. There was no happy ending to smile into, to point to, no evidence that “everything would be ok.”

Today there are similarities.

There is no red bow to tie this story up with, no package or moral to this story. The closest to a gift I may offer you is this:

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Move forward with love. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Move forward with love. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Move forward with Love

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their greatest experiences of love, passion and purpose. She facilitates life coaching groups, facebook groups and also speaks with groups and offers individual coaching. She welcomes your phone calls and texts at 661.444.2735. Please leave a message if she doesn’t answer – she is glad to respond later.

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Lessons from the Psych Unit

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A hospital hallway, in a psychiatric unit, is especially stark and dreary. It can be mysterious for people who have never been there.

I can still feel it, the cold on my bottom, the slight pain from sitting on the linoleum floor at the psych unit at our county hospital. I was visiting a client, a conservatee, someone who had been deemed by the court “gravely disabled”. Gravely disabled is a legal term which meant they were granted me as a Deputy Conservator after a court process that repeatedly proven the individual needs substantial help for their care and treatment and they were unable to voluntarily accept help. The legal mandate may have changed int he last two decades, but then – when I sat on that linoleum floor – I was the person who was delegated to make choices regarding where certain people with mental illness would live, what medications they would have to take, what doctors they would see and what case managers would be responsible for their mental health treatment.

In this situation, the woman I was visiting was a favorite woman of mine – one I felt a certain kinship with even though she often had select mutism and didn’t do much talking. Sometimes she also refused to eat the food that was offered her, which was why she found herself lying in a hospital bed with me silently sitting on the floor beside her.

Maybe I could understand this because sometimes I had a difficult time responding when people asked me questions I didn’t want to answer. Maybe having a brother who was for the most part non-verbal had something to do with it. I wasn’t sure, but I knew there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be on that afternoon.

It might sound completely contrary: sitting cross-legged on the floor next to her bed in a locked psychiatric unit is not a particularly happy place to be, especially with nothing being said.

She knew I was there. I knew she knew and still we sat, silently.

I thought if I just sat without nagging her incessantly she might open up to me.

Which is exactly what she did.

She brought forward numerous stories about numerous people in her history. I agreed with all of it because who was I not to? I didn’t know what happened in Little Italy in 1960. I wasn’t born yet.

We bonded that afternoon like no one else who worked for the county ever had. Thenext time I went to a meeting about her care, I told a case manager and a supervisor if they didn’t stop their bickering about my client’s care and treatment I would find someone else who would do the job instead.

No one had heard a Deputy Conservator talk that way before. I was over the pettiness and I wanted better for this woman and together, we did get better.

Why?

Because I sat on the floor next to her bed and didn’t expect anything from her. I just sat there, my willingness to listen reflected in my cold bottom and my extreme, quiet tenacity.

Ever since that day I have longed for someone to do the same for me.

Who do I know who will sit on their ass on a linoleum floor without nagging me, just being with me?

I realize as I re-read this that I wrote yesterday, my time in the hospital showed me people who would sit with me. They oftentimes talked more than I thought necessary but that’s because most people who show up at a hospital are there out of kindness and want to make things better.

Most people think better includes talking. To me, better means being present without talking.

I also found other people who would sit with me after I got out of the hospital.

All people who visited me and sat with me are treasured.

I share gratitude for them all, even those who wanted to visit and couldn’t due to schedules or discomfort or many other factors.

When my brother John was in the process of dying, I would visit him in the hospital for hours at a time. He literally could not speak because he was intubated. He was not very verbal ever in his life so we had a very quiet, reflective relationship.

I loved sitting beside him silently. It was more than enough to be there, honoring him.

It is more than enough to bravely tell people we don’t know what to say or what to do and we want to be present for them, to listen without advice, to silently be there – presence being the ultimate purpose.

I saw my client’s obituary in the local newspaper several years after I stopped working at the county. I cried as I read it. As I finished writing this article, I listened to my memory to remember her name. I knew her first name and could easily bring up other women with her same first name, even one client who I worked with nearly forty years ago.

My brain brought her surname to life and I spoke her name aloud, a smile and a laugh following. She is still alive in my memory for the lessons she taught me and so much more.  Some of the secret stories she shared I have never spoken to anyone else.

They will always be safe with me, my friend. I waited until you were ready and then I heard you.

Julie JordanScott typing a love poem on the edge of a foothill of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their best results. During the 2020 Pandemic she is also leading daily Virtual Coffee Dates, Facilitating Intentional Conversation so people will feel less isolated during this time of social and physical distancing. Join the conversation by registering for free by clicking this link.

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Speaking of Trees: How Listening Like a Tree May Make You More Human

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When we talk of trees, we honor several qualities our human friends might not understand or apply quite so readily.

We honor quiet listening, listening like the tree listens.  

When we listen like this we listen without giving advice. We give complete permission for the other to speak, just say whatever is longing to be said.

When we listen as trees, we aren’t thinking “Do I believe the same things? Do I agree with what she is saying? How can I argue with their point in order to make them agree with me?”

The tree does none of that. The tree isn’t planning to speak when it is her turn. She isn’t being dismissive because our opinions differ. 

The tree stands beside us, patiently, without judgment, without rushing in to offer “magic bullet” or the latest hack or portion that will be what finally convinces because the tree recognizes it is connection, rather than convincing, that allows us to grow and flourish.

When we listen as the tree listens, we honor shadow – which sometimes makes the living more comfortable when it is too warm in direct sun though at other times, we may become downright chilly in the shadows. In those moments we may choose to step back into the sun.

The tree stands and offers us to gain comfort in her shadow and learn to relate differently to the shadows we bring with us. She reminds us sometimes it is cold in the shadow and the sunshine brings warmth. This doesn’t make shadow wrong, it just makes the shadow different than the direct light. 

Sometimes in the shadow we fuss and squirm and sometimes we stay dryer and warmer because of her shadow-protection.

The tree teaches us to honor shadow.

When we listen like the tree we honor rootedness – staying in place – without wishing, wanting or moving to another destination.

We learn from the tree to  honor rootedness – staying in place – without wishing, wanting or moving to another destination. It feels so good when we stand, rooted, with the tree and allow ourselves to lift up with our arms – exposing our heart and giving our face to the sky to be kissed.

Can you feel the hugging back when you do that, when you stay delightedly in place?

I feel so full and rich and treasured when I allow myself to fully understand what it means to feel this rooted, this grounded – as I’ve discovered my place and space in the world. 

Do you have a tree you especially admire or enjoy? 

Stand with the tree, or stand with me, right now – under this tree.

Breathe with the tree.

Quietly allow the tree’s presence it’s due attention.

Return to your notebook or keyboard and allow the words to flow from your fingertips. Yield your stuff – the gunk and the muck and the sticky repetitive thougths – in honor of the tree.

Write a thank you note to the tree you most admire. See if you may craft your gratitudes into a poem.

Inspired by the Poem What Kind of Times Are These by Adrienne Rich.

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Nothing and Everything is Just Right….

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There is nothing perfect about this picture.

I am wearing lipstick, but no mascara or other attempts at beautification. I hadn’t even bothered to take a brush to my hair.

If you look more closely you will see there is everything perfect about this picture.

I am smiling, even though I am not wearing mascara, even though I haven’t taken a brush to my hair, even though I am slightly ashamed of the reality that in my privilege I was upset about going three days without a longed for chocolate croissant when people are lining up for sustenance and rightfully worrying about being evicted or mourning for losses that are incomprehensible to me.

Right now I am doing the best I can to trust myself to continue to do what I can to enhance the world in my little corner of it. I am hosting conversation circles, for one. I am posting honest and upbeat content to engage and evoke constructive curiosity in myself and others.

My porch is as close to the front lines as I get right now.

My porch is the front line right now.

There is everything perfect about this picture.

Now it is your turn to consider what is right in your life right now.

Prompt for Contemplation, Conversation & Creativity:

A blue sky holds this prompt for conversation, contemplation and creativity. "What is right with your life right now?" A pathway toward water invites you to look more deeply at the question and the prompt... "What is right in my life now is...."

Use this question to prompt contemplation, journaling, a blog post, a conversation, a poem or start a work of art in a new or renewed direction.

Please write in the comments your first response to the prompt.

Julie JordanScott typing a love poem on the edge of a foothill of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their best results. During the 2020 Pandemic she is also leading daily Virtual Coffee Dates, Facilitating Intentional Conversation so people will feel less isolated during this time of social and physical distancing. Join the conversation by registering for free by clicking this link.

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How Will You Look Back at “Times Like These?”

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There are a lot of people who are writing poetry during National Poetry Month. This is something I do – and while I am not keeping up with producing a poem a day – it is more like a torrent of poems every few days – my reading of poetry is what is fueling me quite intensely as of late.

A tree listens in the image as does the quote from Adrienne Rich says, "Because in times like these to have you listen at all, it's necessary to talk about trees." Who is listening to you with sacred, heart opened ears?

In bringing you into my poetry sanctuary – in quarantine times especially I feel more than a bit vulnerable. Speaking that aloud first makes me feel slightly more open to share with you this unfurling process this week as you may choose to step into it, too, to gain an understanding of both yourself, your loved ones and your world.

So far this morning I livestreamed Adrienne Rich’s poem, “What Kind of Times are These” twice, on Instagram and Periscope. Each time I read this poem aloud more turns of phrase and meaning slowly or not-so-slowly rise up to greet me.

Now, it is time to consider how the words of Adrienne Rich and the prompts I am providing may rise up to greet you in your creativity, in your contemplation and in your conversations.

Consider:

Where is your sacred space to listen and to be heard?

Where is your sacred space to listen during this time of quarantine?

Who are the people who will listen to you from their own place of sacred listening?

You may contemplate these questions, discuss them with your friends or on the pages of your notebook or journal. You may also watch the replay of the livestream video on twitter:

Now, a writing prompt to take on your way, without concern for what poet Adrienne Rich had to say or not.

Consider and then reflectively write, free flowing style – to the prompt –

What kind of times are these? and/or

These are the times when…..

If you are not in the space to write, have a conversation with a friend or spend some time in contemplation.

In the future, these time will be a memory you will be asked to remember and talk about with others. These are the times you may still shape these next few weeks.

What will you do to shape these times with hope, light and inspiration?

Woman writing on the front porch of a brick home,
Write wherever you find yourself.

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their best results. During the 2020 Pandemic she is also leading daily Virtual Coffee Dates, Facilitating Intentional Conversation so people will feel less isolated during this time of social and physical distancing. Join the conversation by registering for free by clicking this link.

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Word Lovers, Unite!

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Julie JordanScott, the Creative Life Midwife, is in her Bakersfield, California living room wishing you word-love. She invites you to participate in this week of creative writing and joy. A full book shelf is behind her and she holds a notebook in her hands.

Word-love! Two words I blended together a few years ago to express how much I love words, love their sounds, their meanings and the deep connection they create between us and among us. I write prose, most often non-fiction essays and how-to’s along with the occasional advice. I have written plays and less often I write fiction.

Many people know me as a writing teacher and a writing coach.

Julie JordanScott writing poetry at a downtown Bakersfield flower shop.

One of my favorite and most active form of writing is poetry.

I am a poet who loves to surround herself in poetry.

April is National Poetry Month.  As I often do, I find new ways to share poetry. This year I am livestreaming poetry almost daily via periscope and more often than not on Instagram Live. Usually the poems are picked in the moment as my time to broadcast arrives and I grab a poetry collection and turn to a page and read.

I have found some incredible rich poems this way from poets known and unknown to me that somehow seem to blend into an array of words that addresses exactly with what we are going through.

Yesterday I visited the Poetry Foundation website and found six different poems for next week. I decided I wanted to highlight the online home of Poetry Magazine, where people may read every single issue published since its founding in 1912.

This is poetry abundance at its best, isn’t it?

Again, the poems selected were a mix of synchronistic finds and others very intentional. Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” was a definite yes. I tried to pick a poem that refused to be copied so I went deeper and discovered a new-to-me poets, Emily Jungmin Yoon and Joanne Klink.

This week in my blog I will take a line from each poem I share that day and write an essay from it. I will post prompts for you to use to write, make or share in creative conversations with your friends or family or with yourself in your journal.

A pink circle surrounded by starts contains the words of Emily Dickinson, "The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."

My hope is you may fall in love or deeper in love with words. If you have not been a poetry fan, maybe you will open yourself to the beauty and love of poetry – it isn’t something to be misunderstood or understood like one of your teachers might have told you.

It is something to be loved, to be enjoyed, to be experienced like a fine glass of wine or a sunset or a long remembered and cherished birthday party.

Whether or not you visit here in the coming week, I invite you to experience this coming week as a time of joy, regardless of what is swirling around you.

A notebook on a table with an art journal with a variety of small paper works of art. One is a queenly figure, another is a triangle with a square that reads, "You are essential joy" from a poem by Hildegard de Bingen

As Hildegard de Bingen told us in a poem hundreds of years ago, “You are essential joy.” It is our choice to live those words even when we may not feel them initially.

Thank you for reading.

Julie JordanScott creates content to inspire creative people to lead more satisfying lives even during this pandemic. Walking and sitting at the Panorama Bluffs helps her feel centered.

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their best results. During the 2020 Pandemic she is also leading daily Virtual Coffee Dates, Facilitating Intentional Conversation so people will feel less isolated during this time of social and physical distancing. Join the conversation by registering for free by clicking this link.

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Transforming the Sting of Shame to “Hey, I’ve Got This and Better!”

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This morning someone I didn’t know did her best job to publicly shame me and now, about ninety minutes since the initial sting, my thought it, “Wow. I’ve been publicly shamed! That hasn’t happened for a while.”

I could have done what I once did which was fall to my knees in mourning as I pluck each of my marbles from the ground and skulked off, whether or not what the shamer was saying about me was true or not.

You might be lost in your wondering, “What did the shamer do to try to shame you?” I don’t want to give it undue attention and I know about curious wandering minds so here it is, in a nutshell.

I offered to create micro-communities on Instagram for a challenge I am in, small communities of artists and makers to support each other during the challenge.

Mixed media work in progress. The image includes a photo transfer of Botanist Alice Eastwood and acrylic paint on canvas - the beginnings of abstract flowers.

I had quite a few people agree being in a micro-community would be fun so for much of yesterday and a bit of the day before I put people into groups and contacted each person who said they wanted to be a part of this letting them know they were in and how to access the instructions.

One woman said she wanted to be in a micro-community and wrote a long reply, stating she had looked at my feed and deemed it not full of enough art so I must be a fraud, out to cause harm or worse yet, bring attention only to myself.

I took a breath and replied, sharing about my video project – and saying I had spent the last day and a half putting people into small groups and while I was at it, complimented her project.

Maybe to her I do look like a fake, possibly because my Instagram feed doesn’t look like hers. It looks like an eclectic blend of images – two of which on the first row were video screen shots and another was a poetry prompt and quote, the theme of my videos.

In a mixed media collage, a woman is holding a bouquet of tulips covering her face. She is atop a copy of a musical score and painted light blue textbook paper.

In her article, “Shame on you! Do you use shame to control others?” in Psychology Today, Melissa Kirk writes, “The reason shame works so well is because we’re wired to connect to and seek acceptance from others. Shame effectively withdraws that acceptance and connection.”

Ouch. She is describing what I have often called “Using shame as a verb.”

Today, I did something I didn’t used to be able to do.

I brushed the shame dust off my clothes by journaling, writing this essay, reading poetry and yes, I worked on the mixed media art piece I started earlier this week.

The biggest a-ha from the situation is this: the more I put myself out there, the more vulnerable I will be to people who are likely to want to use shame as a weapon against others who are not like them or who do not fit into their carefully delineated mode.

My job, instead of fighting back and creating more of an uproar, is simply to continue creating, to keep making, and to explore any niggling themes that are bothering me about the episode.

These may also be useful as future writing and journaling prompts when episodes like this happen again or if they may happen to you.

  • Is there truth in anything she said?
  • Is there something in my behavior I might modify?
  • What bothers me the most about what was said to me?
  • Is my motivation coming from the greater good?
  • Am I willing to have this uncomfortable feeling of shaming in order to make a difference in the world?

During my visit to Poetry Foundation website today, looking for poetry for my live-streams next week, I synchronistically found this quote:

“Poets aren’t just makers, they are doers,” says Don Share, editor of Poetry

I am a doer who also does her best to make the world a better place.

Sometimes my actions – my doings – may be misunderstood. I am strong enough to accept the “shaming-as-a-verb” that comes my way as a result because the work I do and the people the work impacts is more valuable to the world than this other person’s assessment.

Julie Jordan Scott sits on her porch drinking coffee from a Lowell Observatory mug

Julie JordanScott is the Creative Life Midwife. She inspires people to live their life as an artform and take action towards their best results. During the 2020 Pandemic she is also leading daily Virtual Coffee Dates, Facilitating Intentional Conversation so people will feel less isolated during this time of social and physical distancing. Join the conversation by registering for free by clicking this link.

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