I'm doing an experiment here. I signed up for a program by the author named Sark called juicy journaling. For 30 days, I will be getting journaling prompts, which I will share here. I invite you to play along with me.
I will blog about regular stuff as well, but this will give everybody a nice break from the usual stress. Here goes:
Create a fast list of your favorite gorgeous moments -- such as the smell of clothes dried in the sun. List 2 to 25 gorgeous moments in a column, as quickly as you think of them.
Holding hands, skin on skin, the smell of honeysuckle, the sound of crickets, the smell of wood smoke, watching the stars, doing really well singing a karaoke song, real hugs, nonmedical touch, the smell in a bookstore, recognizing the first few notes of great songs, holding a baby, to be continued...
I think that fast lists are a great way to the pen moving. Do you like making lists? Why or why not? What significance do lists have in your life?
Yes, I like making lists and reading other people's lists, but then I have a hard time following them, which I find a little strange.
Select one item from your fast list of gorgeous moments and write about it in more detail. What makes this moment special to you? Why is it a gorgeous moment?
Several of my gorgeous moments are all wrapped into one; nonmedical touch. This means touch that's not necessary for my physical care needs due to my disability. You'd be surprised how much of a lack of that there is in my life, and in the lives of a lot of people with disabilities. Holding hands, genuine hugs, they are all part of it. I'm not even talking about anything sexual, though that is treasured as well.
Do you remember the first time that you experienced this particular gorgeous moment? Write a story about the experience in third-person, with yourself as the primary character. (If you don't remember, or if you have never experienced this yourself, write a fictional story!)
One summer day, Amber was walking beside the man she loves home from a restaurant. It was a sunny day, which is somewhat rare in that part of the world. She was so happy to have this man visiting her, for she loved him even then, and had for a really long time. As far as she knew at that moment, he just thought of her as a friend, but she would be patient and treasure him in any form he wanted to offer.
Then, suddenly, but also just at the right time and not in a scary way, the man took her hand and started to walk beside her wheelchair! No one had ever done that before; they always just grabbed her joystick or another part of her chair.
Amber just stopped and felt the weak sun on her face, and the warmth from his hand that melted her whole body and years of pain and cold. For it was then that she knew that he loved her too; that love had come around again, despite the long and cold road they had both traveled to get there. And she knew that believing was possible, that wishing and hoping were real. She knew she was strong. She knew she could do anything. She also began to realize that she just might be beautiful.
If this particular moment were to seep into your soul, what might that look like, smell like, feel like, and BE like?
We would be in a place living together, not always having to visit each other's homes. I would wake up beside him and go to sleep knowing that I'm safe and loved, not just by hearing it, but by feeling it, body and soul. It would smell like honeysuckle and feel like the softest warm breeze at night.
Is this gorgeous moment something that you experience often in your current life? Why or why not?
Not yet, because there is a severe lack of privacy here where I live now and also a lot of stress that kind of kills the impetus for any soft or close moments, big or small.
And I don't experience much nonclinical touch from the world at large because they are afraid to hurt me or afraid they will somehow catch what I have. This makes me sad, because I'm a very positive touch oriented kind of person. I would tell people to give hugs whenever possible. You never know if it's the only one the receiver has ever gotten. And I mean real hugs. Not a shoulder squeeze. Unless I ask for it, that's kind of even more emotionally hurtful than no physical touch at all. I'm not really sure I can articulate why this is, but it's true.
What small change could you make in your life in order to experience this moment more often, or more deeply?
As far as the world at large, I just try to have a sense of humor about it so I don't get too hurt. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn't.
As far as the one I love, he shows his love through acts of service mostly, which are very awesome, so I guess I could try initiating a little bit more of the small soft touch moments myself.
Make a new fast list of gorgeous moments that are centered around nature and the outdoors.
The smell of honeysuckle. And fresh cut grass. And Sun. Seeing the stars. Seeing the ocean. To be continued...
How was the experience of creating this second list different from creating the first one? Which list was easier for you to make - the first open-ended one, or the second, focused one? What does that tell you about what supports you best in writing?
Again, I'm somewhere in the middle. I was glad for more specific direction so that I could know I was doing something right, but I also felt a little restricted. The balance is kind of strange.
Now pick one of your fast lists to be the basis of a poem. To expand the list into a poem, make each list item the first word of a new line. Fill in other words to complete the poem.
I will work on this and post it later, the gorgeous moment poetry experiment.