DIVING DEEPER: Notes Along the Way #3

Posted on May 27th, 2007 by

In the DIVING DEEPER: A writing Workshop pod, Tom wrote the following:

“I do have a question, though. What exactly are we diving deeper into? Is it deep into an underwater cavern, where lifelines are required? A place where shadowed gemstones and treasures winkle in the wavering liquid light of our headlamps? From your beautiful logo it looks as though we may be diving seaward, down into the depths of the open ocean, light growing dimmer above us. Naked, I see. I like that, of course. We weave our way through the watery weed into the green.

Could it be a lake? Reputed bottomless, a lake deep in the old forest, no doubt.

Or maybe we are delving into the very earth itself, a dive of digging into solidity, into the rock beef of all of us, past brimstone and gemstone to the very molten iron core, whirling and magnetized.

I know one thing, we aren't diving into the deep end of a pool. If we were my head would have a knot on it the size of a pineapple.”

So, what are we Diving Deeper into? Tom is right, it’s not the deep end of a pool - unless it is, in the moment of writing.

The Diving Deeper process works on many levels – for me levels are not hierarchical, they are simply interconnected spaces, fractals even.

We are all looking for something. Perhaps we know that that something is right here, always, but rarely do we a ‘direct experience’ of it. Some of us have explored far and wide – we’ve gone guru-hopping, spirit-shopping; we’ve learned our mantra’s, re-lived our past lives, breathed every which way from holotropic to Anapana, we breathed the breath of fire, walked on hot coals. We’ve done The Work, we’ve dynamically spiralled, found out what meme we are, we’ve sat in cross-legged agony for days on end. We’ve asked every question, toyed with every answer.

So, where else is there to go? Even if we dance with T.S. Eliot in Time past and time future, even if we know that What might have been and what has been, Point to one end, which is always present. What then? What now? What is next after now?

For me, Diving Deeper is an exploration of the present through the manifestation of Art. It is a dynamic process which guides us both inwards and outwards – deeper and wider into our own living experience.

Write without a plan, write without being attached to an outcome, write towards uncertainty and fear rather than away from it, write from a state of present-moment awareness. Be willing - over and over again - to learn “a truth about yourself that is too terrible to bear.” (See Notes Along the Way # 1). All these, practised together (rather like riding a bicycle), allows you to meet yourself, just as you are. It brings you closer to Self, and this brings you closer to God, to each other, to all that is – to the direct experience.

You know it when you are there.

In terms of Art, it is the state described by Gloria Steinem: ”Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.”

In terms of Art and Self, of our evolving being – it is the dynamic place of deep enjoyment, of pleasure in simply being ourselves. It is the place of feeling that we are enough. That what we are doing is enough. That ‘enough’ is now, and now, and now. There is no end to this enough-ness, it is full, brimful, overflowing, a never ending banquet of being.

Where am I? Who am I?

A small story: about 14 years ago, a woman walked into my room. I did not know her well, she was a friend of one of my house-mates, quite a bit older than me. A woman of experience. I had an exquisitely beautiful room. High ceilings, creamy white walls, polished wooden floors, a bay window looking out onto two silver birch trees. I had decorated the room with a deep orange chenille rug, my mattress on the floor was covered with a blue and white oriental print. Candles were lit, books of depth and importance were lined along the marble mantelpiece above the fireplace. I had laid out my jewellery on a small desk.

The woman looked around. And then she looked at me. “When are you going to enjoy yourself?” She asked. In that moment I saw that my room was a charade, an empty shell – created by my need to prove to myself that I was alright, that I was a creative being, that I read interesting books and lived a life of wonder and comfort.

I did not. I lived in a state of constant fear. Sometimes of deep terror.

http://images.inmagine.com/168nwm/itstock/itf132/itf132069.jpg

At this point in my life I started what I call the Second Exploration. I decided to find out what had brought me to this fear-state. More than this, I decided to do whatever it took to live a life which was not governed by my fear. I did not need to cut fear out of my life, but I did not want to be chained to it.

And so I went guru-hopping, soul searching, holotropic breathing, satori-experiencing. Every nook and cranny I climbed into grew flowers, some had thorns, but I’m grateful for each one.

A tale of my tail...

And, then I started writing. I mean really writing, not just dabbling or talking about it. (I also started humming, but that is another story.) I participated in a writing retreat with Barbara Turner-Vesselago. It was held largely in silence. She gave me simple precepts to work with, very similar to what I’m teaching now. Write what comes up, write without a plan, dive close in, do not edit, go fearward. In that week I discovered the pure joy of being myself.

I discovered the living creative manifestation of being.

This is what we are diving deeper into. Ourselves.

surrender...

It is why I encourage you to write from your own experience. At least let this be the starting point.

“What do we know, except what we’ve seen, felt, drunk, heard and touched.
What else do we know?”

~Farley Mowat

I do not mean write memoir (& I don’t mean do not write memoir, either).

I mean – sit there, without a plan. Let the thoughts and images and sensations arise in your body, and start to write.

“There is no need to imagine before you paint. Painting brings forth imagination.”

~ Kazuaki Tanahashi.

It is the same with writing.

Most of what comes to us is something from our own lives. I encourage you to go there. I encourage you to use this extraordinary material of your life for exploration. Even if you are engaged in a novel of complete fiction – spend some time writing, every day, if possible, from your own experience. Let a scene from your past – perhaps one which you would rather not write about – rise up. Dive into a particular moment and situation. Write as if it was happening now. Go there.

Shinkichi Takahashi said of the famous haiku poet Matsuo Basho:

“Enter into the object, the whole of its delicate life, feeling as it feels. The poem follows of itself.”

(in 'Afterimages: Zen Poems')

Often, events from our distant past (more than ten years ago) will prove more fertile . It will, as Natalie Goldberg says, have “composted.”

Do not try to tell it ‘like it happened’. Simply go there, now: write from the place you are in during the moment of writing, with one foot in the past, the other in the present. By this I mean stay connected with your body - include it as your tool for writing - feel the world you are in, sense it, experience it. You will make things up as you go, you will astonish yourself even, not knowing if you made it up or not, but you will be there. Whether what you write ‘happened’or not is irrelevant. You will be playing in the soil of your soul, of your life, of your being, you will be singing your songline.

You will be finding the patterns and connections and apertures of your journey – a journey both unique and collective: mythic. Mythic even, and sometimes especially, in the most ordinary of moments. A child watching ants carry breadcrumbs across the grass; a brother trying not to cry after scraping his knee; a woman plucking the feathers off a newly-killed chicken. Everything in life is interesting, if you are present for it.

FOUR hours? Where do you think I'm going to find those around her

Writing Assignment:
Make a four hour date with yourself. A space of time where you will not be interrupted. Unplug the telephone, turn off the wi fi and your cell phone.

Do not plan what you are going to write about. Clean your desk the day before, make it inviting. Put new paper in the printer, if you use one. Set up a new Word document, or open your notebook to a fresh page. Put a glass of water near by, maybe a flower in a vase.

When the time comes for your date, sit down at your desk and breathe. See what arises. Allow memories to float in. Notice which images and situations hold the most ‘energy’ for you. Choose one, and start to write – going to a specific moment in time. Do not write ‘about’ what happened, simply write what happened. Give the details: what you see, hear, feel, think, smell. Notice if you are holding back something. Go there.

”Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is, in the boredom and the pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness. Touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, for in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

~Frederick Buechner

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Tagged with: Diving Deeper, writing, life, story telling, searching, spirituality, being, fear, Writing Assignment