From Arthurian legend to your next breakthrough: How one ancient story can transform your writing. An Exclusive Writing Lab on living in the questions and the mysteries of life, plus with a prompt that taps into the “last myth”
I'm reading all of the posts from the beginning ... again. I am pondering 'what ails me, what deep unhealed wound?' After much seeking, counselling, learning, growing, healing - and writing about it all - asking the question still stirs something, so I will keep asking and pondering.
I will definitely keep this question in mind as I write. Like you said in your introduction, it's so common to lose sight of the reason we start writing... for ourselves, not for other people. And when we're truest to ourselves and what we need, when we work to uncover our own truths, we can be more authentic and thus move through the world in a way that helps everyone.
This is a lovely story. I think so much about finding and sharing my own truth -- and how to make that work in a world/community/family of so many conflicting truths. The Roald Dahl story Genesis and Catastrophe made a huge impact on me as a young person -- the idea that one person's truth may be another's nightmare (in that case, millions of peoples nightmare), and then it grows more multi-faceted from there. That's harder to deal with and express, but infinitely more interesting to me than one "truth." Though of course, as you point out, if you look inward you can move forward with making peace with and sense of your own story. Thanks...
I’m in a pool of water, maybe waist deep, like a very small pond with grassy banks and a bit of swampy feel, it’s dark. There is someone else there with me, Elijah. We are fishing around for some things……I have the sense I’m looking for something to show Elijah, something to prove myself authentic and capable, something that can help the situation. I pull up a crystal, not fully desirable in its condition, half formed, not clear at all. He shakes his head. I put it back. I see another interesting shape embedded in the mucky bottom, but as I touch it, it falls apart, degraded from so long submerged under water. Then he pulls up a large, somewhat round and faceted crystal - clear, full of rainbow colors bouncing off and through it as he held it up to show me. He said, “this”, as he held it with great satisfaction, not arrogant, not shaming me, just showing me, this is what we are looking for. I wake up.
The day before this dream I had woke up early, still unsure if Chloe and I would be heading to La Push, a 3 1/2 hour drive out to the coast, one of the furthest places you can drive to in a car, north and west, in the state of Washington. The drive takes you through Olympic temperate rain forests, full of mystery, moss, ferns and lichen, Sitka spruce and western hemlock, some 100s of years old, stretching upwards to 250 feet, 30-60 feet around, a magical place abundant in rain and original people’s stories, some tell of sasquatch. Chloe was raised there, in the land of the Quileute nation. I wanted to help her, I volunteered. Yet, I was also feeling I’d be very ok if she had changed her mind and I could slip back into my own routine of coffee, reading, writing, stretching, more coffee, computer time, maybe some painting, with lots of dilly dally waisting time……..sigh. We exchanged texts and, yes!, we are still on.
I cleaned out my truck of the accumulated extra bags, snacks, trash, too many jackets and miscellaneous evidence of my busy comings and goings without taking time to reorganize in between. This is the kind of thing that begins to eat at me, weighing on my psyche, reflected in other areas of my life, within and without. What actually starts this repeated cycle of clutter and neglect, the inner or the outer, is up for debate. Feeling lighter now, I start the truck to warm it up and turn on the seat warmers for myself and Chloe, now beginning to feel grateful for this opportunity of a long drive and time to talk with my long time, dear friend.
For weeks leading up to this day the weather had been clear and cold, dry, freezing at night. As I drove to Chloe’s I felt another weight inside me, the weight of regret. I don’t like regret, who does? I’ve gotten better over the years at not letting regret have its way with me. But there it was, knocking me over the head, “why didn’t you get out more when the sun was shining? Now the rains are returning! What have you even done these past few weeks? Time is ticking and you aren’t using your time wisely enough. What is wrong with you? What ails you?” I arrived at Chloe’s, the voice of regret took a back seat.
Our long drive out to La Push was a joy. The clouds rolled in, the misty rain accompanied us, fitting for a trek through a rain forest. We got caught up on the past year, reaching back further in time, adding context to present stories in our lives, the intertwining stories of families and friends, deep connections and important memories that have their lasting impressions in our hearts and souls. There’s some pain there - a lot of wounds, a lot of healings, wounds that remain still in need of healing. My heart, my mind, my soul aches. I almost say the words……those familiar words coming from a place of wanting to fix what’s wrong…….. I laugh instead, we both laugh, we both know we can’t fix it, we can’t fix them……. We love them as we love ourselves as we keep moving forward……
The return home was filled with more conversation along with quiet times as Chloe napped, a peaceful journey, my mind and heart at ease. As I drove away, after dropping Chloe off at home, I felt the peace of doing a good thing for a good friend, with the depths of connection between us having deepened. There was a quietness in the truck that vibrated with my thoughts of Chloe and the stories she shared that I hadn’t heard before, stories of a childhood cut too short by trauma…….a deeply tangled kind of trauma from the personal to the cultural and societal levels…….. not my story to tell here, though deeply important in the effect it has in my heart. I drove home, in silence, looking forward to getting home, putting my pjs on and crawling into bed for a good nights sleep………
I came through the front door, my bladder full, headed straight for the bathroom, and there was Lydia plunging the toilet, yikes! She looked at me with eyes of defeat, I guess having plunged for some time now. Whatever was stopping the flow refused to budge. So I jumped in to give her a break, trying all my tricks, as she told me what happened. Lydia’s son, James, and her daughter, Anna, relieved their bowels in succession, his went down just fine, Anna’s did not. They both said nothing extra had been put in the toilet. The plunger was still doing nothing. I asked Tina to go back and ask her kids again, this time letting them know, I’m not mad, things happen, I just need to know because it will help me decide how to proceed. Sure enough, Anna, 8, confessed that she took off her gauze bandage that was wrapped around her knee from a bad fall the day before and flushed it down the toilet. Bingo!
At this point I remembered, I have to pee! I only have one bathroom, so I went out to my garden with enough privacy in the dark to clear my bladder and my mind to think of my next steps of how to fix this problem at nine o’clock at night. I remembered a time many years before when I had a clog that just would not stay gone. The flow would get worse till I plunged, got better for a few days then I would need to plunge again. I tried a snake, nothing was working. Someone suggested I might want to turn the toilet upside down and see what might be stuck in the pee trap. So that’s what I did and sure enough, there was a carpenter’s pencil wedged at the bottom collecting debris. A past boyfriend of mine was a carpenter, go figure.
I went back inside with confidence now, knowing I can do this. I told Lydia, who was still worried about me being mad, and explained my plan. We cleaned out the toilet, as best we could, of debris and liquid. I took the toilet apart, laid towels on the floor, turned the toilet over and sure enough, there was Anna’s gauze bandage perfectly filling the hole at the bottom of the toilet preventing anything from passing. I had Lydia call her kids in to take a look. I explained to them everything I did and how we learn from these kinds of things and how it’s important we remember these lessons so that we can take care of ourselves without feeling helpless. And, nothing goes in the toilet but your bodily waste and toilet paper…..repeat after me……..
After putting the toilet back together, cleaning everything up, flushing a few times to make sure the job was done, I took a shower, feeling the hot water cleanse me as I felt the blessings of the day washing over and through me as well. The feelings I woke up with, the desire to stay hunkered down in my routine, a routine that has its merits and importance, but a routine that also gets stagnant and lonely with nagging feelings of wanting something I can’t always put my finger on. The feelings of regret for not utilizing my time more fully with all the things I know will give me joy and satisfaction. I said thank you out loud as the water showered me with her blessings…… thank you for this day, thank you for my life, thank you for my ability to be in these moments that are put in front of me, for being fully here, present, loving, strong, capable…….thank you for my ability to be with the stuck moments that aren’t easy as well as the flowing moments……..to be able to recognize all the gifts contained in every moment when we have eyes willing to see…….thank you!
The dream was clear to me. Elijah, representing my animus, was there in the pond of my life and in my psyche, there with me in the murky waters, in the dark, looking for treasures, looking for the gems amongst the debris. There’s a crystal there, not fully formed, not clear yet, needs more time, that’s okay, I put it back. There’s old stuff there, submerged for who knows how long, stuff that disintegrates when poked, stuff that’s ready to compost back into the mucky bottom that holds the richness of life-giving-substance needed by other life in the pond. Then, there’s the gem, the crystal clear gem, with rainbow colors, held up in view by my animus self, my help mate that is always there ready to jump in and help me fix things. He is there for me to lean into as needed, he doesn’t judge, he helps, he teaches, he pushes, he is confident in what he knows…..no, not that one, this one…… he is crystal clear and shows me the joy of rainbow colors when I recognize this all within myself. Thank you, Aho!
I'm reading all of the posts from the beginning ... again. I am pondering 'what ails me, what deep unhealed wound?' After much seeking, counselling, learning, growing, healing - and writing about it all - asking the question still stirs something, so I will keep asking and pondering.
I will definitely keep this question in mind as I write. Like you said in your introduction, it's so common to lose sight of the reason we start writing... for ourselves, not for other people. And when we're truest to ourselves and what we need, when we work to uncover our own truths, we can be more authentic and thus move through the world in a way that helps everyone.
This is a lovely story. I think so much about finding and sharing my own truth -- and how to make that work in a world/community/family of so many conflicting truths. The Roald Dahl story Genesis and Catastrophe made a huge impact on me as a young person -- the idea that one person's truth may be another's nightmare (in that case, millions of peoples nightmare), and then it grows more multi-faceted from there. That's harder to deal with and express, but infinitely more interesting to me than one "truth." Though of course, as you point out, if you look inward you can move forward with making peace with and sense of your own story. Thanks...
Ponder Percival, the fallow kingdom, and the deep, unhealed wound.
Share what comes up in the chat.
What Ails Me?
(Names have been changed to protect privacy)
I’m in a pool of water, maybe waist deep, like a very small pond with grassy banks and a bit of swampy feel, it’s dark. There is someone else there with me, Elijah. We are fishing around for some things……I have the sense I’m looking for something to show Elijah, something to prove myself authentic and capable, something that can help the situation. I pull up a crystal, not fully desirable in its condition, half formed, not clear at all. He shakes his head. I put it back. I see another interesting shape embedded in the mucky bottom, but as I touch it, it falls apart, degraded from so long submerged under water. Then he pulls up a large, somewhat round and faceted crystal - clear, full of rainbow colors bouncing off and through it as he held it up to show me. He said, “this”, as he held it with great satisfaction, not arrogant, not shaming me, just showing me, this is what we are looking for. I wake up.
The day before this dream I had woke up early, still unsure if Chloe and I would be heading to La Push, a 3 1/2 hour drive out to the coast, one of the furthest places you can drive to in a car, north and west, in the state of Washington. The drive takes you through Olympic temperate rain forests, full of mystery, moss, ferns and lichen, Sitka spruce and western hemlock, some 100s of years old, stretching upwards to 250 feet, 30-60 feet around, a magical place abundant in rain and original people’s stories, some tell of sasquatch. Chloe was raised there, in the land of the Quileute nation. I wanted to help her, I volunteered. Yet, I was also feeling I’d be very ok if she had changed her mind and I could slip back into my own routine of coffee, reading, writing, stretching, more coffee, computer time, maybe some painting, with lots of dilly dally waisting time……..sigh. We exchanged texts and, yes!, we are still on.
I cleaned out my truck of the accumulated extra bags, snacks, trash, too many jackets and miscellaneous evidence of my busy comings and goings without taking time to reorganize in between. This is the kind of thing that begins to eat at me, weighing on my psyche, reflected in other areas of my life, within and without. What actually starts this repeated cycle of clutter and neglect, the inner or the outer, is up for debate. Feeling lighter now, I start the truck to warm it up and turn on the seat warmers for myself and Chloe, now beginning to feel grateful for this opportunity of a long drive and time to talk with my long time, dear friend.
For weeks leading up to this day the weather had been clear and cold, dry, freezing at night. As I drove to Chloe’s I felt another weight inside me, the weight of regret. I don’t like regret, who does? I’ve gotten better over the years at not letting regret have its way with me. But there it was, knocking me over the head, “why didn’t you get out more when the sun was shining? Now the rains are returning! What have you even done these past few weeks? Time is ticking and you aren’t using your time wisely enough. What is wrong with you? What ails you?” I arrived at Chloe’s, the voice of regret took a back seat.
Our long drive out to La Push was a joy. The clouds rolled in, the misty rain accompanied us, fitting for a trek through a rain forest. We got caught up on the past year, reaching back further in time, adding context to present stories in our lives, the intertwining stories of families and friends, deep connections and important memories that have their lasting impressions in our hearts and souls. There’s some pain there - a lot of wounds, a lot of healings, wounds that remain still in need of healing. My heart, my mind, my soul aches. I almost say the words……those familiar words coming from a place of wanting to fix what’s wrong…….. I laugh instead, we both laugh, we both know we can’t fix it, we can’t fix them……. We love them as we love ourselves as we keep moving forward……
The return home was filled with more conversation along with quiet times as Chloe napped, a peaceful journey, my mind and heart at ease. As I drove away, after dropping Chloe off at home, I felt the peace of doing a good thing for a good friend, with the depths of connection between us having deepened. There was a quietness in the truck that vibrated with my thoughts of Chloe and the stories she shared that I hadn’t heard before, stories of a childhood cut too short by trauma…….a deeply tangled kind of trauma from the personal to the cultural and societal levels…….. not my story to tell here, though deeply important in the effect it has in my heart. I drove home, in silence, looking forward to getting home, putting my pjs on and crawling into bed for a good nights sleep………
I came through the front door, my bladder full, headed straight for the bathroom, and there was Lydia plunging the toilet, yikes! She looked at me with eyes of defeat, I guess having plunged for some time now. Whatever was stopping the flow refused to budge. So I jumped in to give her a break, trying all my tricks, as she told me what happened. Lydia’s son, James, and her daughter, Anna, relieved their bowels in succession, his went down just fine, Anna’s did not. They both said nothing extra had been put in the toilet. The plunger was still doing nothing. I asked Tina to go back and ask her kids again, this time letting them know, I’m not mad, things happen, I just need to know because it will help me decide how to proceed. Sure enough, Anna, 8, confessed that she took off her gauze bandage that was wrapped around her knee from a bad fall the day before and flushed it down the toilet. Bingo!
At this point I remembered, I have to pee! I only have one bathroom, so I went out to my garden with enough privacy in the dark to clear my bladder and my mind to think of my next steps of how to fix this problem at nine o’clock at night. I remembered a time many years before when I had a clog that just would not stay gone. The flow would get worse till I plunged, got better for a few days then I would need to plunge again. I tried a snake, nothing was working. Someone suggested I might want to turn the toilet upside down and see what might be stuck in the pee trap. So that’s what I did and sure enough, there was a carpenter’s pencil wedged at the bottom collecting debris. A past boyfriend of mine was a carpenter, go figure.
I went back inside with confidence now, knowing I can do this. I told Lydia, who was still worried about me being mad, and explained my plan. We cleaned out the toilet, as best we could, of debris and liquid. I took the toilet apart, laid towels on the floor, turned the toilet over and sure enough, there was Anna’s gauze bandage perfectly filling the hole at the bottom of the toilet preventing anything from passing. I had Lydia call her kids in to take a look. I explained to them everything I did and how we learn from these kinds of things and how it’s important we remember these lessons so that we can take care of ourselves without feeling helpless. And, nothing goes in the toilet but your bodily waste and toilet paper…..repeat after me……..
After putting the toilet back together, cleaning everything up, flushing a few times to make sure the job was done, I took a shower, feeling the hot water cleanse me as I felt the blessings of the day washing over and through me as well. The feelings I woke up with, the desire to stay hunkered down in my routine, a routine that has its merits and importance, but a routine that also gets stagnant and lonely with nagging feelings of wanting something I can’t always put my finger on. The feelings of regret for not utilizing my time more fully with all the things I know will give me joy and satisfaction. I said thank you out loud as the water showered me with her blessings…… thank you for this day, thank you for my life, thank you for my ability to be in these moments that are put in front of me, for being fully here, present, loving, strong, capable…….thank you for my ability to be with the stuck moments that aren’t easy as well as the flowing moments……..to be able to recognize all the gifts contained in every moment when we have eyes willing to see…….thank you!
The dream was clear to me. Elijah, representing my animus, was there in the pond of my life and in my psyche, there with me in the murky waters, in the dark, looking for treasures, looking for the gems amongst the debris. There’s a crystal there, not fully formed, not clear yet, needs more time, that’s okay, I put it back. There’s old stuff there, submerged for who knows how long, stuff that disintegrates when poked, stuff that’s ready to compost back into the mucky bottom that holds the richness of life-giving-substance needed by other life in the pond. Then, there’s the gem, the crystal clear gem, with rainbow colors, held up in view by my animus self, my help mate that is always there ready to jump in and help me fix things. He is there for me to lean into as needed, he doesn’t judge, he helps, he teaches, he pushes, he is confident in what he knows…..no, not that one, this one…… he is crystal clear and shows me the joy of rainbow colors when I recognize this all within myself. Thank you, Aho!