Lazy and hazy

DSC02243The lazy, hazy days of summer are upon us, and Janis and I have decided that we are going to grant ourselves a summer blogging vacation. Life is short and summer passes quickly. I know that I have a stack of books on my bedside table that I’ve been itching to read, and there is no greater pleasure than an hour or two in a hammock with a good page-turner.

Writing from the Centre will be undergoing some changes, although neither one of us is quite sure what they will look like. Janis will be stepping back so that she can make time for some other priorities and some new offerings are in the works for fall and beyond. At some point I will be touching base with you, dear reader, to find out how best to support you on your writing path. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy your summer and get lots of writing done. May you be healthy, happy, well-fed and well-read. Until next time,

Elaine and Janis

Photo credit: Janis McCallen

Writing, Trauma, and Compassion

5590645114_13fc711244_m

In the world of Buddhism there is a figure known as Avalokiteshvara in India, as Kuan Yin in China, and as Kannon in Japan. He or she (in some cultures the avatar is male, in most, female) is the figure of compassion, an enlightened being who passes up liberation from suffering in order to care for others. In the iconography, Kuan Yin is often pictured balanced on a lotus leaf, clutching a small vase, which she uses to collect the tears of the suffering and return them to the ocean. She is, in a manner of speaking, the goddess of listening; the silent witness of all that is hard to bear.

4371634515_748789db05_m (1)

Recently, I have been taking a course on memoir writing with Sue Reynolds, and enjoying the sense of accountability that I seem to need to work on my personal writing projects.  As part of this course I decided to write about an event in my family that was very traumatic, and that, up until now, I’ve never even tried to express. When I finally spit it out, in a very short and unelaborated way, I had a feeling of incredible relief. Just the act of finally putting it down on paper, or rather, figuring out a way to put it down, has been tremendously therapeutic.

8630165611_a6050cffcc_m

Why is writing such a useful form of therapy? Copious research supports the use of writing in helping people to overcome post-traumatic stress. One of the most effective PTSD treatments being used today involves having survivors dictate or write their story with support (either human, pharmacological or both) and then having them re-read the story day after day to a trained listener, until they can read it without overwhelming pain.  One of my therapist friends describes trauma as emotion looking for an experience, or something amorphous and disembodied that needs to be made real in some physical way—which is exactly what we do when we write.

AUGUST 10 2008 PHOTO TRANSFER 002

Writing down a trauma is different than just telling someone about it. First, the act of writing allows plenty of time and space. Often when we try to describe an experience we are derailed by the response we receive. Nothing shuts down a difficult tale as quickly as someone offering helpful suggestions. Good psychotherapists learn to maintain silence for a reason.

Our culture, and our society does not give us many opportunities to express our grief, and the opportunities we do have (funerals and wakes) have been shortened and sanitized. More and more there is social pressure to repress all forms of “negativity.” Business leaders and self-help gurus argue that no one should be a “Debbie Downer.” (Every time I hear this admonishment my right eyelid starts to twitch). So what do we do with our sadness? And how do we help those who suffer?

Reading about suffering is difficult. There are many stories, both real and fictional, that bring up difficult emotions. Often we prefer to live in our world of escape and entertainment, where happy endings are guaranteed and the boy always gets the girl in the end. But being a witness and hearing the suffering can change us in profound and important ways. We can become more human, more empathetic and more connected.

5590645114_13fc711244_m

Being willing to bear witness is an act of compassion, and even when we cannot change the situation in a substantive way, being willing to engage, eyes open, is a form of solidarity. Reading about the suffering of others connects us to one another in a way that is not necessarily mediated by the machinations of power and economics. The experience may not be fun, it might even make us cry, but in the end it benefits us all.

Until next time,

Elaine

Addendum: Sue Reynolds created a moving TED Talk about her work in prisons. Well worth watching if this topic is of interest to you.

If you enjoyed reading this post, why not subscribe to our blog? Just enter your email address in the “subscribe” box at the top right hand corner of this page. And if you’d like to subscribe to our monthly newsletter, click here.

 

Kuan Yin Statue with Vase
Photo Credit: Yeoh Thean Kheng via Compfight cc

Kuan Yin Painting Photo Credit: Wonderlane via Compfight cc

Rose photo by Janis McCallen

Head Shot Photo Credit: lejaclyn via Compfight cc

Finding the Perfect Office Chair

3021011076_611a3780f9_m

3021011076_611a3780f9_m

Writers spend a lot of time sitting in chairs; it is a hazard of our occupation. We all know that sitting is not healthy but it is hard to write while moving. I know because I’ve tried. I don’t wish to go off on a diatribe about fitness. All the writers I know do exercise, and build breaks into the day to go walking or to the gym. Breaks are important for both physical and mental health reasons, but when you must stay in your chair and have a deadline to meet; having a comfortable office chair makes a big difference. Read more

Rest in Peace Sue Townsend

5164520211_4cfa7cb373_mI heard on CBC radio last week that one of my favourite writers, Sue Townsend, passed away recently at the age of 68. Townsend was the creator of Adrian Mole, one of the most subversive and endearing literary characters of the twentieth century. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 and ¾ is the first in a series of books written from the point of view of the angst-ridden, spotty, and bewildered Adrian. Read more