Writing and Holding Back
Today I want to write about writing.
I have been taking a memoir writing class at the local Center for Spiritual Living and I am absolutely loving it.
The most fun part as been the sharing of everybody’s writings.
The format is that we do timed writings on various, pretty random, ideas. Like “tell me everything you know about Jello” and then we share what we wrote.
I laughed more in that first class than I had in months (years?). And the writing was so good. Even people who were insisting that they were not writers, it was all so good.
And it felt good to share my writings too. People seemed to like them as much as I liked theirs.
In the past couple of weeks, it has been a bit deeper, a bit more intimate in the writings, but just as rich to write and listen to.
But here’s the thing – when people ask me – namely my parents, what I’ve been up to, I don’t tell them about this class. I haven’t told my son either. And I wonder why.
I’ve noticed a pattern on how this theme of “not sharing” is currently showing up in my life.
With my mother and son – in our “catch up” phone calls, they will ask me some version of “what’s happening?” and, literally, before I can open my lips to form a word, they are on to the next thing.
With my father, he will ask, and I will stumble and resort to “not much”. Sometimes, I just draw a complete blank.
But yesterday, as I was fumbling for something to say, the class did run across my mind. And yet, I didn’t mention it.
Again, this is not about my family or how they should be communicating with me. This is about my perception and allowing it to be healed for me.
This time I noticed that I held something back, intentionally. I received the guidance to share and there was resistance. It wasn’t an “I can’t say that” thought or anything. But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was “nothing’s really going on”
So, the healing, as always, is to allow that Voice with the loving suggestions to have more resonance within me. What I mean by that is to have the pull of the idea – the idea that will lead to an opening, an expansion – to have more allure and attraction than the voice that shuts that idea down and stops that flow – which at this point can be pretty automatic in a lot of cases.
So, I continue to become aware and hold to the ideal that I am allowing that Voice for Love more and more, and soon it will be always and in all ways.
And just for laughs and giggles, here is my 5-minute timed write on Jello.
Jello. What exactly is Jello? Some weird concoction that is supposed to be a healthy dessert because it is fruity? I remember when I was young, my father used to make Knox Blocks. That is when you would use even more gelatin (Knox brand) and prepare the Jello in such a way that you can cut it into little squares. This way Jello becomes finger food. You can stack them, play with them, build houses if you wish. And if your parent was super dedicated, you could have different colors of blocks to play with. Are Knox Blocks still a thing? Or did we graduate to Jello shots as society got older? I have never actually had a Jello shot. Hmmm, maybe I would like to try. Oh wait, that is not true. I think I had one in Las Vegas on the big Ferris wheel. I think I remember it being kind of gross. Or maybe by that time of night, any additional alcohol was poised to turn my stomach.
Anyway, back to Jello. One of the fun things about Jello is how wiggly, jiggly it is. It’s like a fun little blob. And I do like the fruity flavors. Lemon is probably my favorite, although I do like a good berry flavor as well. My son was never into fruity flavors. That’s probably why I never made Knox Blocks for him. I am going to see if I can find a recipe for them and maybe I will make them, just for nostalgia.
Jello is definitely of my youth. I am thankful to remember those Knox Blocks and the love that my father put into them. It brings a smile to my face.
I did end up making them and I took them to the class to share.
Maybe I will share the Jello story with my dad. Maybe it will make him smile too.