Write it Raw
Dear Fel,
Allow me to be a wee wicked witch guide for you… into your writing practice.
There is a way that does not force or require effort and stays true to the very heartbeat and breath of this moment, just as you do here with me.
Do you see? you do write… always, with tender brilliantly jeweled wisdom… dripping in love and wonder and puppies in need and pied pipers that lead you into the mysteries of YOU of LOVE!
It is all right HERE!
Do you see? Do you seeeeeee?
And yes, there is a way to make this a daily practice with yourself.
Once upon a time my wild soul’s heart yearned like you to write! I was heavy with creation… with the weight and wonder of my life and the knowing that I needed to scribe it, because who else would? Seriously?! Who else will tell this tale of my one precious life for me and future generations like US! like YOU! to your past self, wandering and lost… waiting to discover rubies like these in the mud of existence that lead you to the beating heart that you now live.
Yes… we must leave the trails! First and foremost for ourselves… because writing is that communion with the deepest parts of us. In fact that
stream-of-consciousness flow like I am doing here moves us along our continuum, we hear the voice of our Angel whispering in the markings… wooing us into a living revelation in answer to our prayers our crying out to the Universe!
I began 30 years ago, though I have always written love letters–impassioned odes of my soul to those I adore who have ignited me. So yes, these letters! that we write to each other, remember these are holy!
Yet back then there was something else howling…. and that was my Inner Beloved, the deepest regions of my wild soul seeking a living communion with me. Instead of reading my prayers and whispering my rosaries… I was being wooed to write to, with, Her/Him/Them.
Put that pen to paper at first dawn… and let it flooooooww. Without thinking without anything, other than being true to the voices and sensations, the emotions in my bodysoul. Write fragments, be the worst version of myself, complain! Hear the white noise that is incessantly critiquing me and others and give it a bed.
And as we release this level of the mind noise and give ourselves permission to be bad, we spiral even deeper til we land in the Underground Forest… the realm where witches are screeching in ancient tongues telling coded tales for dark times like these… and wild creaturas are offering up their rooted furried feathered spirits of the land teaching us how to live in this world.
Just flow for three pages in a lined notebook. Don’t use a journal, because those pretty things defy the rot. And at first, not a computer because you are not here to edit it, just let it be… (though now that is where I wrote because I am old my hands ache from the fierce grip of my pen), unless I need to roll in the grit again in the middle of the night when I cannot sleep. So i grab a pen and my notebook and scribble until the demons are exorcised by telling me what I have forgot…
Writing raw and messily so even I can’t read it, ignites us and leads us perhaps to writing a memoir or article or a novel about the truth of flourishing in wildfire times?
Raw writing is where everything is sourced. It is the headwaters.
Which is why it is not a journaling process… it is a raw expressive place. Fragments of madness, rages and tender tears, superficial whines, and what we don’t like and don’t want to do!
It takes a while to get to the heart of our matter, because we are all trying to be so fucking good for the world…. but we have to let. this. gooooo… just let it be. Some of it is not even ours, it’s just been lodged in our bodies for a thousand years waiting to land.
3 pages. No more. No less. College ruled. Cheap notebook.
Write like you are going to burn it. And watch for what emerges out of the ash!
