Ruby slippers, light sabers, and… questions?!
Greetings, fellow travellers!
In the hero story, magical tools are things that assist a hero on her (seemingly impossible) quest.
Think: ruby slippers and lightsabers.
But nobody said that magical tools always have to be things.
They can also be questions.
In writing a website for Melani Marx (with the help of my writing partner Rebecca, one of the co-founders of my new project Orange, Liston, & Dew), and having the privilege of interviewing many of her clients to write case studies and testimonials, one thing Melani told me was that she often starts her client calls with the question: What are you noticing?
In my world, a question like this is a ‘magical tool.’
In fact, you probably have a few questions like this in your own practice.
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Lately, I’ve been thinking about how I very much feel like I’m on an adventure, even though we haven’t really gone anywhere (well, not since last summer’s trip to Japan).
In my twenties and thirties, I loved to travel and move about the world experiencing different cultures and learning about the wide variety of human experience.
But now that we just bought an 116 year old house, all I want to do is nest, decorate and love up on our home.
My love of adventure endures; it’s just different.
And what am I noticing here?
That when you’ve got an imagination and space to dream, reflect, and interpret the events of your days in a way that pleases you, you can save a lot of money on airfare and hotels… and beat the crowds!
Writes Franz Kafka:
“You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”
When we give ourselves the space to be still and receive, the world blooms for us.
This is what writing can do for us.
When we use writing as a personal practice for reflection, insight, and self-mastery, all sorts of goodness happens.
This morning, I was reading a book by Sonia Choquette, who wrote something that sparked for me. Something about how imagination is how we connect with spirit.
Now, over the years, I’ve worked with many teachers who help people connect to their inner wisdom, souls, spirit, or god (call it what you like).
But it never quite dawned on me that our imaginations are bridges to that other world and all its creative power until today!
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Part of the conversation in Writing Your Way Home is about the different tools and techniques you can use as a ‘way in’ to your inner world.
I’ve been writing to my 86-year-old-self for years, and she gives me all kinds of sage advice. My mama, who’s in this session of Writing Your Way Home, wrote a letter to her 68-year-old body. Another woman, a former high-powered oil and gas attorney who bought herself out of her job, wrote a dialogue with her beloved grandmother, who died 30 years ago.
I never quite understood what was going on when we write things like this – and to be honest, it didn’t matter much to me. I knew that it was helpful and healing, and that was what mattered.
But now, I’m noticing that writing as a personal practice is actually a bridge to the deeper, wise, protective, powerful parts of ourselves, that in the bustle of life, we often lose touch with.
So, writing to ourselves is a ‘magical tool’, too.
One that can bring us back home.
What are you noticing in your world? Whatever it is, I encourage you to make space in your full days to sit, ‘still and solitary’, and listen.
Big love,
