“Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is summoning you to where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go to next.”
Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark
It has been a week of dizzying change, of outrage and tragedy and—it’s just been a lot. How are you doing, really?
The headlines, the trauma, the blaming, the spin. It’s enough to make you just withdraw. To stop paying attention.
Today, it is 39 degrees and pouring rain where I live. The snow is gone, leaving bare trees and dead grass. The weather matches my mood.
We live in unprecedented times. We are watching our democracy crumble, and I pray we are brave enough to speak up. To “write up,” as it were. If you can’t do so publicly, at least take notes. Someday, your grandchildren may ask you about these days, and you’ll want to bear witness.
The problem is, much of our conversation happens in a forum absolutely ripe for misunderstanding, accusation. It completely lacks nuance. In fact, it seems designed for confusion and conflict. This week I was accused (on social media) of having the exact opposite view from the one I hold, because people react instead of reading. It was harsh and frustrating.
If you find yourself crying, or screaming into the void, as Buechner writes, pay attention. You are not alone. Let God speak to you through your tears.
Photo by MART PRODUCTION: https://www.pexels.com/
Let your pain or frustration or anger fuel your writing. Even if you are not writing about say, politics or plane crashes, democracy or diversity. Just write. Write heartbreakingly beautiful stories or poems. Write encouraging and uplifting articles, books. Write a letter to your children or a friend. Write in your journal.
Notice your tears. Don’t brush them away or ignore them. Pay attention, and let them tell you, as Buechner says, “where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go to next.”
As writers, we need to listen—not just to what is going on around us, but to the voice of love that transcends our circumstances. It can be hard to hear that voice. (My book Listen might prove helpful.)
What does it look like to pay attention? To notice your tears, especially unexpected tears, and then respond?
For writers, here are some simple strategies.
Begin your day with morning pages. This practice, made famous by Julia Cameron in her classic book on creativity, The Artist’s Way, is simply starting the day writing several pages, longhand, on paper, of whatever is on your mind. Pour out your dreams, your worries, your thoughts, ideas. It sounds woo-woo but just try it. I promise it will unlock your creativity, and even if you accomplish nothing else in your day, you will be able to say you are writing. Not just that you want to or hope to, but you have written.
Photo by Vlada Karpovich: https://www.pexels.com/
Set small writing goals and celebrate them. Do you have a daily word goal? Work toward it. Celebrate getting even part way there. Again, writing offers us a tangible result: here is what you got onto the page today, even if it is a terrible first draft. It’s a start, it’s movement. Write, celebrate. Write more.
Stay connected. It’s so easy to isolate. Connect with other writers, if you can. A great way to do that: join West Coast Christian Writers. (Info on the many benefits of that here.) Connect with friends. Reach out to someone who you think might be lonely. Text a friend and tell them you’re thinking of them. If you need to seek out professional help of a therapist, do it.
Move. Every day, try to move. Writing requires us to sit. But don’t sit all day. Dance in your living room, go for a walk or run. If it’s cold and rainy, go to the gym or walk in a shopping mall. I guarantee it will help you sleep, and make you feel better. We need all the endorphins we can find right now, and movement unlocks them.
Be grateful. It may take more effort than usual, in this strange January. Do it anyway. And write down what you’re grateful for—even small, ordinary things. Today, a friend texted me to just ask how I’m doing. What an incredible gift. And I got a decent night’s sleep (because I moved a lot yesterday). Again, a blessing. I wrote both in my journal. I took a deep breath and let myself feel grateful. It helped.
Friends, what are you doing to care for yourself as a writer? How are you nurturing your soul? Share it in the comments.
great column..as a frequent crier--especailly in the last few years--it really hits home. Good advice to anyone who writes.