Archive for the ‘Beginning’ Category


The bonus? challenge Day 31, by Matthew Stillman: [Mess up your hair. If you are wearing makeup – smudge it. If you have a pair of pants that don’t really fit you – put them on. Put on a top that doesn’t go with those pants. Go to your sock drawer. Pull out two socks that don’t match. Different lengths, materials, colours, elasticity […] Take a picture. Get ready to post it online. Are you feeling dread? Excitement? Is this not the image you have of yourself? Write about the fear or the thrill that this raises in you? Who do you need to look good for and what story does it tell about you? Or why don’t you care?]

Ministry of Self Reliance

Seriously, is this woman really an aspiring writer?! @2010 T. Jorgensen

All of us misunderstand and are misunderstood. If not by others, so help me God, by our selves. We don’t have to be geniuses to be and do that. Take this prompt for example; Trust30 says 30 days of writing, so yesterday was a closure for those of us that had reached challenge 30. We said our goodbyes and complimented each other for having ‘hung in there’ and some felt, as yours truly, exhilarated to have started to see them selves as a writer prospect.

This morning I stretched out in my bed with a fantastic image of myself. “Goddamn, I feel good about myself. I had actually done it; I wrote for 30 days in a row and enjoyed every bit of it. I got out of bed, had breakfast, and started to write about my next post, which was a sort of answer to a comment I got on one of my posts. I wrote and I wrote and then I felt the urge to see what the Ralph Waldo Emerson site said about the project.

What? Another prompt?” What can I tell you, I felt stupid (Don’t I know how to count?!), then a bit annoyed (don’t THEY know how to count?!) and then rebellious (nope, I am NOT going to write about this!) and then rather entertained (Is this The Domino Project’s way to let us know that they are great and so are we, because we misunderstood?) Don’t know and frankly don’t care that much either, I am in a writing spree, so shoot, “Let’s write!” I feel very self-reliant while I write this. 🙂

Take a picture?!” Well, my self-image is VERY differentiated, it depends on what mood I’m in: goofy / funky / ugly / sexy / totally undesirable / beautiful / tall / short / fat / thin / funny / boring / intelligent / stupid / young / old / all / nothing / alien / human… I wouldn’t know where to begin. I have no trouble to look silly, be silly, act silly, talk silly and even walk silly, if I am in the mood. Life is too short to not have fun, as they say. True, but sometimes we aren’t able to play. As I’ve written before, my dark night of the soul is no fun or silly. But just for today, let’s seriously play! I will walk sillier, talk sillier, and look sillier so I can embrace the freedom of being capable to laugh at my self and others, not to humiliate or be humiliated but just to acknowledge I AM what I AM. So what if I am misunderstood or misunderstand?! I feel alive and it’s been a long time coming! In’Lakesh and let the fun begin!

Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood. – Ralph Waldo Emerson


wholly strange and new

The challenge of Day 16, by Bridget Pilloud: Can you remember a moment in your life when you had life in yourself and it was wholly strange and new? [Can you remember the moment when you stopped walking a path of someone else, and started cutting your own? Write about that moment.]

Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Be still. And go…take the leap. Announce your dream and go. Okay then…to those of you that read my post; this is an excerpt, a sort of beginning of what might become my first book. As I sit in front of my computer writing this I feel a sensation I have felt a few times in my life – a strange budding in my gut and an awkward sizzling in my head. What I am about to write was by far the most life changing experience and dark I ever had so far. Breath. Inhale. Exhale. Go.

Credit: James Mannan ©2006

“ Once upon a time there was a woman who fell out of her own story and had to beg for someone willing to help her conquer her fear.

She looked at the face staring back from the mirror. “You look exactly as I feel; old, worn out and cracked”, she said out loud and felt a peculiar rumbling within. The face staring back at her was totally covered with grey dust. She had tried to redecorate the entrance of her home for a while now, but pieces of the walls kept falling down. She looked back at the lifeless eyes and noticed a big nothingness around her. She lost sense of time, space and felt a peculiar heaviness. She just stood there looking at herself in the mirror. ”Who are you?” There it was again. The rumbling. She saw the dusty face open its mouth as if to scream. Nothing. She didn’t hear a sound. But the rumbling within her increased like a volcano. Then it happened. It got dark. A weightless nothing. An instant oblivion. A forced silence. Connection lost. Nothing. “

Personal note ~

I remember the moment I went insane. That was what I thought I did. I remember it as it was yesterday. That’s how powerful it was. When it happened, everything got dark. It was as if I shut down completely. The recalling is so clear even after many years. I remember I felt blank, void and life was meaningless, because I didn’t feel alive. I had felt that for a long time, without accepting I was in deep trouble. I had no connection at all with my emotions and intuition. I was out of words, feelings and stamina and lived totally through my repetitive negative thoughts. The very last thing of that moment I remember was that I saw myself in the mirror, opening my mouth, as if I was going to scream my heart out. But I have no clue what happened right after that. I still don’t know for how long I was “out”. It could have been five minutes or it could have been sixty. But when I “came” back it felt like an eternity. I sat crouching in a corner in my bathroom crying hysterically.

After what seemed like forever I got up, looked in the mirror and saw a face I didn’t recognised. A striped, twisted face. I saw a person in great need of help. I guess I saw myself as I was; totally lost.  By the grace of a greater force than myself, I somehow was able to call a doctor and ask for help. The doctor saw to it that I got a psychiatrist and treatment. After a year I felt better, but the emptiness was still there as if waiting to be filled with something other than anti depressive pills and cognitive behaviour treatment.

Today I realise that the experience was falling into the dark night of my soul or going into my inner desert. At first I was convinced that I was crazy, a loony that had lost it completely. And in retrospect it was actually true. I had lost it. But not my mind. What I lost was the connection to my soul. That’s a big difference. I had lost myself in translation. I began my toughest journey so far – the journey to my authentic self. And it had to go through the Grace of Reboot first.

But what comes down has to come up. I wanted to live, even if there were times I wanted to die. It was very frightening when it happened, but that was actually the moment with capitol M that was wholly strange and new. That was the moment I started to walk in new shoes. It was a moment with promises of a new life. And that walk has led me to where I am today. Here. Writing. I am here.

Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Be still… WHOLLY STRANGE AND NEW.  

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