I feel like I’m starting over. I feel like I don’t know anything about anything. The journey to Pennsylvania and Georgia for research and writing walked the thin line between past and present. I didn’t know what I was doing or what I would discover. It was sometimes disorienting. Each day I had to open to what was there.
Upon my return, I find myself needing rest and ground. I have gathered so much information; I’m not sure where to start. And I feel like I am at a new beginning in my writing. Perhaps in the whole way I look at my life.
The way we measure our lives tends to be in relationship to everything around us. In the interview in More About The Monkey, Natalie Goldberg talks about the distraction of Monkey Mind. But that’s not the way this feels.
What if we are not stuck in writer’s block or distracted by the monkey, but simply beginners, remembering what it felt like to ride a bike for the first time, visiting the old from a new perspective.
Beginner’s Mind.
There are many teachings on the beginner’s state of mind. In Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Shunryu Suzuki-roshi lays out how important it is not to lose the freshness of beginner’s mind. On days I feel lost and new, and like I am starting all over, I find comfort in his words.
A piece I recently found inspiring was a post on running through rain about beginner’s body called, starting bonus. running through rain is an excellent blog for inspiration and growth. If you are stuck on writing ideas, check out the site.
The last line of starting bonus (Beginner’s Mind is an asset. Beginner’s Body is a bonus!) links to a lecture by Abbess Zenkei Blanche Hartman on Beginner’s Mind. The last paragraph of the lecture sums it up:
So please, cultivate your beginner’s mind. Be willing to not be an expert. Be willing to not know. Not knowing is nearest. Not knowing is most intimate. Fayan was going on pilgrimage. Dizang said, “Where are you going?” Fayan said, “Around on pilgrimage.” Dizang said, “What is the purpose of pilgrimage?” Fayan said: “I don’t know.” Dizang said, “Not knowing is most intimate.”
Thursday, June 14th, 2007
Beginner! (raises hand)
I’ve never written much. Though I enjoyed my courses in college, I’ve never been one to just sit down and write for fun. People have urged me to write because of all my weird adventures. Red Ravine has given me modivation and encouragement. Now I am trying to write.
…beginner, novice, newbie.
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mm, your perspective is always so refreshing and alive. I’m glad we inspire in some way. Because you sure inspire me. Keep writing your stories. There are so many inside to tell.
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I like this – “On days I feel lost and new”
What an interesting image that brought! Imagining myself not afraid because I was lost rather I was invigorated by it.
R3
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R3, I didn’t even catch that. But it’s exactly how I feel – lost and new. Maybe the writer inside knew what she was talking about and somehow it all came out the right way!
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First thoughts. Good thing the editor didn’t go back and edit it thinking, “lost and new??,”. Lost and all alone is so tired, isn’t it? Oh oh, now I’m going to get that song stuck in my head. 🙂
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Which song is that? It’s on the tip of my tongue.
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I’m going to be too lazy to look it up, but I can sing it for you:
Lost and all alone
I always thought that I could make it on my own
And then you went and something something something something
Something something lost my way
And I need you back to stay…
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That sounds suspiciously like one of those Lionel Richie songs. 8)
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OK, now you forced me to look it up. It’s Bread, from the album Lost Without Your Love. And here are the real lyrics:
Lost and all alone
I always thought that I could make it on my own
Since you left I hardly make it through the day
My tears get in the way
And I need you back to stay
(Lionel Richie…geez…)
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I used to love David Gates and Bread. Make It With You. Baby, I’m-a Want You….I knew it was right on the tip of my tongue. David Gates was the Lionel Richie of the early seventies. More blasts from the past.
Happily, I’m going to stay on the current track of Lost and New. Now where was I? First thoughts. I like what you said about first thoughts.
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Oh, thanks for the reminder ybonesy. My brother had “The Best of Bread” when I was a kid, and I’ve always meant to get the CD. I know all the words. I used to swoon with Diary…I found her diary underneath the tree, and started reading about me…
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Speaking of diaries – that’s a real link to first thoughts. I wonder if I have my old diaries somewhere. Remember that post ybonesy did where she scanned images out of her old diaries?
I like the word swoon You just don’t hear words like that anymore. I’m trying to think of other words you don’t hear anymore.
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QuoinMonkey,
You sound right where you need to be. Not that your experience needs to be just like mine, but it took me weeks after returning from Holcomb to even get the slightest idea about what to do with the information gathered there. It is still just a tiny flame, and I mean tiny. People ask me all the time, “What are you going to write about Holcomb and Truman Capote and all those people you met? Something really big, right?” My response is the same everytime: blank stare, assuming I ought to know when I don’t, feeling tempted to make up something that sounds really sensational & literary, and then finally just telling the truth. “I have no idea. It’s all just ruminating in my mind.” This isn’t the most popular of answers. Oh well.
Take your time, sister. More will be revealed.
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Yes, and related to first thoughts, I still plan to post a writing practice of Dee’s (she and I are going to sit down and do one soon – she’s at a horse camp all week this week) to see how her beginner’s mind flows. And this relates to my diary in that my diary at age 13 was basic sentences: “I cut my hair. I ate two sandwiches. I bought earrings.” Whereas, with the teachings of Writing Practice under her belt, Dee at age 11 blows me away with her sentences.
I wonder if you found your old diaries, QM, how would your writing be? First thoughts? By 13, my editor was already kicked in and I was already laboring over what I was committing to paper.
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p.s., swoon, yes, good….
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QM: I liked this:
“walked the thin line between past and present”
and it was disorienting, because you visited both in the same moment. It is hard to stay open to that. My mind wants me to choose and to jump down onto one side or the other. But, you, on the high wire, did not choose. You actually walked the thin line and stayed with both. Bravo!
Beginner’s Mind is like that, too. To walk the thin line of the present moment, without jumping to the past or the future, is very difficult, a real balancing act, yes, like riding a bicycle or walking a tightrope….
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QM: Take solace in this perspective from Susan Griffin in A Chorus of Stones: “No detail that enters the mind, nor the smallest instance of memory, every really leaves it, and things we had thought forgotten will arise, suddenly to consciousness years later, or, undetected, shape the course of our lives.”
Or this exchange I had with Natalie:
S: So you continue to write even when it feels like a mountain?
N: Yes, little by little, and then you become the mountain.
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Teri, I like your honesty here:
feeling tempted to make up something that sounds really sensational & literary, and then finally just telling the truth. “I have no idea. It’s all just ruminating in my mind.” This isn’t the most popular of answers.
I have to say, when I was collecting all of the information and interviewing people, I did have the thought a few times, “What if it takes me years to write this book?”
I was sure people were going to be asking me what I did with all that material. I decided to let myself off the hook. It’s only been a few days since I got back. But in the meantime, I hope to write a few smaller articles or essays leading up to working on the memoir (and maybe even becoming a part of it).
It all has to unfold as it does. Too much pressure, and I’m sure I wouldn’t write anything!
BTW, your use of the word, Sister [Take your time, sister. More will be revealed.] — it’s a common phrasing for family members in the South. My mother was called Sister when she was growing up. I asked about it a lot when I was there, but did not get a definitive answer.
Can’t wait to see what you do with all the Holcomb material. Is there some way you organized it all when you got home? I’m always curious about people’s processes with gathering writing material.
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ybonesy, I look forward to your posting of one of Dee’s practices. I thought of your post on Dee’s beginner’s mind when I was writing this one:
How I Spent My Summer Vacation (link)
That’s also the summer I realized how good Dee was, how good we all are when we don’t have a monkey in our heads telling us otherwise. Dee showed me what beginner’s mind was.
To answer your question about my old diaries – now that I think about it, I think you are right. They would be all edited with short sentences like, “We went to the lake. My summer was good.”
I’m not sure. If I run across any of them, I’ll post something on it. I know my old journals (before writing practice) are somewhat boring accounts of my day-to-day life. I’m so happy to have learned about practice and first thoughts from Natalie Goldberg.
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breathepeace, on your comment:
Beginner’s Mind is like that, too. To walk the thin line of the present moment, without jumping to the past or the future, is very difficult, a real balancing act, yes, like riding a bicycle or walking a tightrope….
I thought about that a lot when I was away. I’m telling you, when I’d be sitting there with important people from my time growing up there, and they would be talking about their memories and I’d be having mine at the same time, I’d look for a way to ground into the moment.
Sometimes it would be as simple as looking down at the age spots on my hands and how much my body has changed! Body movements or breath would often keep me tethered to the present. But my mind was working overtime, stepping between worlds.
It seems very connected to what we learned in Taos last year. Sitting in the body, letting the mind roam, bringing it back, grounding to breath, sound, heart, body.
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Sharonimo, I remember a Susan Griffin book, was it Woman and Nature? Tan, simple cover. I have not read A Chorus of Stones. But this line you quote is exquisite:
things we had thought forgotten will arise, suddenly to consciousness years later, or, undetected, shape the course of our lives
It’s profound to think about the way a memory or thought can rise later to change or shape our lives. With all the wisdom of aging and moving forward, we can absorb it in a whole new way.
I guess then letting ourselves be re-shaped by that is a great form of beginner’s mind.
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Sister is an endearing term, isn’t it? Along with Shug, Hon, and Sweetheart. I’m guessing you got a lot of that “back home.” My material from Holcomb isn’t any more organized than the day I left Kansas. But what I have is good. After John (cousin) and I would interview someone, we would sit in his car and do recall. It was a new practice for him, and he got really revved up to remember everything that was said. Lucky me. Despite the material remaining unchanged since Kansas, my mind is much clearer. I know what I’m choosing between. I know the directions I can go with the material. I’ve sought my writing mentor’s counsel. I’ve spoken with my friend Pam (native of Kansas) about what I saw, what I think happened because of Capote. She was born 5 days after the murders happened, and grew up literally across the street from Lansing State Prison, and the gallows where Hickock and Smith were hung.
So Sister Shug, keep it all close to your heart. The directions come.
Oh, did you get your fill of sweet potato pie and greens?
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I’m glad you liked the post. We do go off on some strange tangents at that blog sometimes, and going from improving your resting heart rate to improving your soul is one of those examples. I’m impressed with where you’ve taken it, and where your commenters have gone as well. I’m honoured to have played a small part in this conversation.
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Teri, I got a ton of Shugs when I was there and I have to say, that’s by far my favorite term of endearment. It did my heart good. 8)
I love the way you and your cousin, John, would do recall after you would interview people in Holcomb. That’s a great tool we learned from Natalie, isn’t it? I did that a little bit with my mother after we met with people I had not seen in ages. And I did it with my brother after meeting with Mrs. Juarez.
You also pointed out some other ideas in your comment (some of which I used, too, when I was Down South) that people might find helpful. Good insights.
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raincoaster, I should point out that running through rain is only one of your many blogs. I have to say, I don’t know how you keep up with it all. I feel like ybonesy and I have our hands full with one! Thanks for stopping by.
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