Creative Life Midwife

Inspiring Artistic Rebirth

The Perils of Being a Comma. Or a Dash, an ellipsis, a period.

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What Punctuation Mark are You? Using a line from poetry to step into a deeper level of self discovery through meditative writing and a photo of a woman, writing, on a deck between two mountains. Purple and green.

Once upon a time I had a friend I liked a lot. I told this friend, “I am nothing more to you than an ecru comma.”

What a perilous way to be, an off white comma, a brief stop on the way to something better.

There is nothing worse than to be a comma.

A comma personified.

Ten plus years later, at times I feel like I remain a comma. Is there such a color as faded ecru? Aged ecru? Stained, torn, battered and bleeding ecru?

Let me rephrase that: I do not see myself as anything like that ten-year-plus presumed comma. I have been stained, torn, and scarred. I have bled and I have healed. I have devoted myself to presence and passion and moving forward.

Commas haven’t committed. They aren’t first or last, they are a hesitation.

As I wrote that last sentence, a meadowlark sang after she took a nibble from the mulberry tree in my front yard. Fully committed, she sang in joy and praise. Can a comma be that precise?

A comma isn’t as firm as a dash – that says – wait.

Almost a period, but not quite enough and we stand there almost falling over a comma is steady and filled with air. I imagine it is easily popped.

"Commas on her face --- a breath, a word" is a line from the poem "My Darling Turns to Poetry at Night" by Anthony Lawrence. The image is of letters made of wood or plastic scattered on a board, haphazardly. It is in greyish-toned black and white.

I believe I chose this line “Of commas on her face— a breath, a word … “from the poem “My Darling Turns to Poetry at Night” by Anthony Lawrence, to meditate with today because I know what it is to be lost to poetry when others are around. I probably seem to separate myself into an otherworldly place at times when poetry – my own and others, scoops me up and takes me away.

As an apology for losing myself into whatever non-human experience I was passionate about, I let go of getting lost to those loves and devoted myself instead to human tasks and helps, forgetting that I was worthy of both passions and an assist and a collaborative effort from time to time.

Sometimes it is lovely to be a comma, even an ecru comma.

Now that I think about it, a peaceful smile looks something like a comma.  I will claim that, too.

Perhaps we, we humans, would be better off embracing our loves for what they turn to that isn’t us – as long as it isn’t a wall between us and them. I love poetry and theater and deep soul conversations and the occasional ridiculous television show and that doesn’t mean I want to separate myself from those I hold most dear or darling. Sometimes embracing the comma time as a place to meditate on love itself and on humanity herself would be a better choice than wall building.

In this musing I realize how much meditation is like a comma.

A breath, a word to center, a breath – more words… and then words disappear and there is breath… a comma.

A comma is a part of something bigger than herself. She is an important part of the overall story.

She is a bridge. She is a sign-post. She takes a stand for what she believes to be true.

I am proud to be a comma and more. I am proud to be a stained, shiny, torn, healed, scarred, fierce, frightened, passionately active, ecru and purple comma.

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, bestselling 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 to Write About Your Life in 5 Easy, Meditative Steps –

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May is National Meditation Month: We will be blending poetry and meditation to create, make and activate a more mindful, art-filled life.

To read the complete poem on the Poetry Foundation Website, please visit here.

In May we are blending poetry & meditation to create, make and live a more mindful, art-filled life. I will be sharing my writings that blossom from the meditations as well as videos, images and other helpful tools for you along the way. Today, we are sharing free-flow meditative writing followed by 5 Steps to Making Peace through Witnessing Your Life with Writing – and in doing so, we circle back to where we started – with poetry and the words under the words.

Lavender blossoms surround the words "May is National Meditation Month" and here we are blending poetry and meditation to create, make and live a more mindful, art-filled life.

Yesterday afternoon during the #5for5BrainDump which may be used as a meditative writing practice, the words that flowed were these:

The words under my words are… optimistic most of the time. They are like the comic I saw today that my friend shared of the three views of the heart: the optimist a big red perfectly Hallmark heart, a dramatic broken heart to proclaim the pessimist and an image most like a human biological heart for the realist. I most often refer to my words as optimistic realism but they don’t feel like that right now, when I allow the space to roam about my chest and up and out my throat.

The words under my words are are battling for control. My words under my words are slightly scratchy, that annoying base of the throat tickle – feel like I might be getting sick but because I know what my nervous cough sound like, I recognize this. I recognize this. They feel like, might they be a virus? Are we still allowed to say that word except for as in “Novel” or “Corona” or “Covid”?

My words above, below and beneath my words at eye level feel crusty and stale, grumpy and stagnant. They’re old and scabbed and calcified. Tainted and negative and not good. Not good.

This morning, before I turn to another daily poem, I revisted yesterday’s words and add – The words under my words are just right as they are – crusty and stagnant and stinky are equally rich and valuable as the flowing and soft gentle breeze on a hill wearing a gorgeous white lace dress with perfect hair.

Today and my words in it will be – as I allow them to be.

It is when I don’t allow them to be and me to be and you to be and the emotions that pop to be that my shoulders become like earrings and my gut becomes a roller coaster.

I trust my words, today, and I trust the leaning tower of ancient historical words to be more of a cradle that gently rocks me than a car spiraling out of control on a roller coaster. The word-cradle is in my breath and my heartbeat, my pulse and my womb, my brokenness and my sometimes polished exterior.

No need to battle and pretend there is such a thing as control.

Your words – under your words – spend time holding them close, with love and grace. Hold space for joy amidst the not-so-joyful and the belly laughter amidst the tears of sadness.

Now: A simple 5 step process for you to witness your life in words – all of your life – from a meditative, mindful frame of mind.

Day 1: a vase of irises shares how the words under words will be made more peaceful when we make peace through witnessing "what is" , blending poetry and meditation to create, make and live a more mindful, art-filled life.

We write from a place of peace: we don’t judge the writing as it falls off the tip of our pens or fingers on the keyboard or fingers on our screens. We allow the words to fall as they will without editing, judgment or forethought.

We are witnesses, not judges. We hold space for ourselves to enjoy the process regardless of what story our words are telling.

Step One has the irises in a vase and advises us to use clear, descriptive, sense based words. These words may be colors, flavors and other objective details rather than words like "amazing" or "nice" or "pleasant".

Write what you experience, not what your opinion is about what you experience. Instead of “It was good” or “I think it is pretty” write “The bright purple irises fill the glass vase with the twine tied in a bow.” “There was a hint of vanilla in the chocolate chip cookies” or “He was over six feet tall, which made my five foot four inch frame feel tiny.” Yes, there is some opinion in that final sentence, but see how it is supported in fact?

There is a beautiful shade of green, slightly mottled with purple on the other side of the vase of irises. Step 2 is "Write in snapshots or moments in time rather than large periods of time all at once. When you write in snapshots you capture the core of your story, of the "what happened."

You can practice this by taking actual photos of your life as it happens or looking at a photo from the past and writing about what was happening when the photo was taken. Immerse yourself back in that moment of with rich, sensory details. Once you master this, your writing will become increasingly magnetic and at the same time, connect you to your readers more and more deeply no matter what you are writing.

At the center of all good writing is a daily (or close to daily) writing practice. One way to stay in the witness is to make a list of what happened the day before during your writing practice time. When we do so, our subconscious mind will begin cataloguing details and your writing choices will become richer.

People often resist the idea of writing practice. It sounds like too much or a chore or something inherently unpleasant or without a purpose. When one tries and sustains this, it becomes deeply pleasurable and life changing in the most positive direction one might suspect. Try it for a small amount of time at first and see how it works. Experiment with different times of day and different methods of “containment” – I write in notebooks and other times on my phone and with my computer keyboard. Allow yourself to try different means and methods.

Step 4 invites us to lovingly lower our expectations. Rejoice in the perfectly imperfect and live outside the judgment zone when we are witnesses to our life.

Recognize what you write will not be perfect – part of the practice is to welcome the imperfect, the grammatical mistakes and the misspellings. Sometimes these are the most valuable parts of the growth experience. Enjoy the process for the sake of the process. Document the facts, not what you think of the facts. Begin to appreciate the imperfections with as much love and joy as the “perfections.”

Final Step: Revisit your daily (or whenever close to daily) free flow, meditative style writing once a week to glean life patterns, creative patterns and celebrate your growing awareness of witness.

Revisiting your writing is a deep pleasure as well as a method to note your progress. I can return to notebooks years later and wonder who this person was – while delighting in her moment-by-moment delight and discovery. Sometimes I long for her presence or find I have wandered off course and the past-me from my writing notebooks reminds me. The witnessing me of the past reaches out to the witnessing me of the future.

This is miraculous, just like you are miraculous.

You may follow along here on the blog as well as via social media. There will be different daily versions on different social media platforms. I suggest starting here on the blog and on Instagram for Instagram Live and IGTV episodes. You may see Facebook Live for 5 for 5 Brain Dump sessions at Writing Camp with JJS which may be accessed here.

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

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, bestselling 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 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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