Harvesting stories from life

I spent this past week as an instructor in the memoir workshop at Houston's first annual Writefest, sponsored by Writespace. It's been a rich week, immersed in the voices of new and emerging writers with evocative and amazing stories worth telling. The experience has given me an opportunity to reflect on why we dedicate ourselves to this work, this storytelling, crafting our memoirs. The courage it takes to reveal ourselves.

We are the authors of our life story, a personal narrative that compels us to leave home to find our destiny. Each time we take a risk to leave the safety (and boredom in the routine sameness) of our lives, we embark on a new beginning and the excitement of possibilities. As storytellers, we explore the depth of our experiences for meaning. There is pride in accomplishment, hope in surviving tragedy, and joy in a life fully lived. By sharing our stories, we share both our fragility and fierceness. We share our humanity.

Irish poet John O'Donohue writes: "Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning." 

He adds: "To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a cynical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening." 

I love O'Donohue's word "ripening." I imagine my ideas for storytelling as seeds. When I give myself permission to sit and craft those stories, I can imagine a story ripening with each draft, each new revision. The hardest part of craft is to begin. Once that occurs, I can be vulnerable, honest, and authentic. The story swirls, ripens, flourishes. 

Sometimes writing is play, often it's work, but oh my God, it is sweet ecstasy to see it finished.

Again quoting O'Donohue: "There can be no growth if we do not remain open to what is new and different. I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that has not been rewarded a thousand times over."

When I explore my life experiences, I'm startled by the lessons they offer me. But as Carl Jung observed, an unexamined life is not worth living. Telling our amazing stories together may be living out loud, but it's preferable to living unconsciously. Indeed, if life is worth the risk for the rewards, so all the more worthy is the telling of those stories for others to hear and celebrate.

Let love lead

This is my last year to work full-time at Lone Star College, and it marks my silver anniversary. Twenty-five years filled with teaching, administrative tasks, engaging with colleagues, motivating students--making a difference. It's been a glorious ride, doing meaningful work. I have been relunctant to retire because I love my job.

But I feel a stirring in my soul. I want to spend more energy helping women give voice to their life stories. However, as I told my sweetie, I do not want to make it a business. Instead, I want to take my time and follow my heart.

It will be a challenge. I have been addicted to "busyness" most of my life. In fact, someone commented that I should be slowing down, but I laughed and said that I'd decided to finish strong. And I will; it's in my nature. After that, however, I am going to bask in the late afternoon of life.

My plans? I plan develop workshops for women and bear witness to their evocative stories, both in person and online.  I'll finish that second novel that is hiding in plain sight in my computer. I'll travel with my sweetie in the RV that he bought for us three weeks ago and plant the seeds for women's story circles as we motor throughout the nation.

I will not, however, do any of this hurriedly. Busyness is not part of my post-retirement plan.

And if those plans don't work out?

"Let go of the life you planned and embrace the life you are meant to live" reads one of the quotations prominently placed above my computer in my home office. What better reminder for today, Feb. 14, 2016?

Telling Our Amazing Stories Together

One of the gifts I received at the retreat in Comfort, TX, last week was learning how a "third thing" can open my heart and speak to my soul. These "third things" include poetry, music, images, movement and nature, to name a few. For example, Enya sings:

Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reason why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
you may travel far,
for a pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are..."
("Pilgrim," A Day Without Rain)

The lines "each heart is a pilgrim" and "where the stories go" resonate deeply in me. Telling our stories is how we share our hero/heroine journeys and diverse cultures. Where do the stories go? They lead us on daily quests, both exterior and interior.

I am on a pilgrimage into the world collecting stories from life about what matters, making connections and forming relationships. Each time I share, whether by telling my own or listening to yours, I refill my heart with love for the human spirit.

And that, dear friend, is what makes TOAST so yummy.

Game Changer

The chancellor sent an email Friday morning announcing his retirement as CEO of the Lone Star College System, effective in August. This comes only months after the board of trustees voted to move to single member districts. Just one of these decisions is a game changer. Both are sending seismic currents through the organization.

I do not know how, but I can safely predict the institution will change as a result of the personalities and philosophies of the new players. There will be change--both in small and in significant ways.

New beginnings are on the horizon; the future is unclear. How will the changes affect those of us who are faithful servants of the educational enterprise? Folks are concerned because we know things will be different--but how different and in what way?

I have gone through other changes similar to the one facing Lone Star College System, and I can attest that all have led to changes in direction and new beginnings. Transitions can be revolutionary or merely small modifications, but all require adjustment and acceptance.

The game changers in my adult life include job changes, marriage, childbirth, divorce, diabetes, menopause, deaths of my parents... the list goes on. I've hit the wall and thought I was stuck in a very dark corner of life until I learned (over and over again) that we have to let go of what no longer serves us in order to change direction and explore new territory.

The same is true in life as it is in organizations. Life takes sharp, unpredictable curves. Truth is, I've never met anyone whose life followed the storyline he or she imagined. For example, I can tell you honestly, my childhood dreams of the future did not become my reality. My life is not the one I envisioned. But, holy moly, it has been one exhilarating ride!

And that may be the trade-off: predictability is exchanged for interesting. So... interesting times are ahead.

Life is about change, and as we shuffle, traipse, ramble, swagger, and race through it, one of the important ways we can navigate is by sharing our experience, our strength, our hope through our stories.

What changes have you faced that became game changers?

The Power of Story

My friend Maddie died the day after Christmas. For the record, she died sober—she celebrated 28 years in November—but succumbed to cancer.

We had a memorial service yesterday at an AA club that was packed beyond what the fire marshal would have desired—the chairs were filled, no standing room remained in the back of the room, and yet people still crowded in. We all loved Maddie, and we needed to console each other in our grief and share our memories of her.

She was a creative force in our lives, a warrior woman, with a grin that captured our hearts. Surely she would’ve captured yours as well had you ever met her.

We shared hours of stories. Recounting and reflecting on those memories, we began to grasp and appreciate the full impact she made in our lives. As one person put it, heaven received a beautiful angel while earth lost a lovely soul. Through our stories we nurtured our memories, keeping our beloved Maddie alive, in our minds, in our hearts. That is, after all, the power and le raison for stories.

The last time I saw Maddie alive was Dec. 12. She was in remission—or so we thought. She and I dined at a Vietnamese restaurant, sharing shrimp spring rolls and steaming bowls of chicken pho. I showed her photos on my iPhone of the Victorian home I’d purchased in a small town about an hour from Houston. The house is on Church Street, and we agreed I should name the place Church Street Retreat because my vision is to facilitate writing retreats for women there.

Even in death, she inspires me to embrace my vision. We need to share the stories of our lives with one another because in our telling, we will find our strength, our value, and our joy.

This blog is about bearing witness to the stories of people’s lives and reflecting upon the process. I’ll post every Sunday and hope the blog will stir your own memories, so you’ll begin putting your life stories in a journal, notebook, or computer file. In this way, we will begin telling our amazing stories together.

*Just so you know, TOAST is an acronym for Telling Our Amazing Stories Together.