‘The wave makes a sullen sound’ - symbolism and the sea

I live within walking distance of the beach, and the sea is one of the first things I see when I open my curtains. I love that view because it is always changing. Some mornings the sea is flecked with gold and red, at other times the sky is stormy grey, with the thinnest line of sunshine streaking down through the clouds. On a calm night, when the moon is full, the surface of the water looks like silk. At other times, it’s wild and choppy and I fall asleep to the sound of a distant foghorn blaring its ghostly warning to passing ships.

Since I’ve been living here, the sea has entered my subconscious like an unseen presence. Mermaids, seal wives and selkies sail through my stories. Even the poems I’ve intended to be about other things often feature the sea or water as a metaphor. It’s as if it has become part of me.

The sea, of course, is full of symbolism. At its primordial mythological level, the sea represents the watery chaos that existed before the world was formed. The first book of the Bible describes ‘formless depths’ – the Hebrew word is ‘tehom’, from which the chaos monster Tiamat also takes root.

Water is death

If water represents chaos, it is also a harbinger of death. I was born in Southampton and most of my ancestors were sailors. From my nan’s tiny cottage (now long-since demolished) overlooking the busy docks, sons, uncles and brothers would depart, often for years, with no guarantee of return. Along the walls of every major port are plaques commemorating the names of those whom the sea has claimed as her own.

Water is life

Paradoxically, water is also the stuff of life. Millenia ago, our ancestors crawled from the sea onto dry land. We are 65 per cent water and need water to survive. The human body can go 30 to 40 days without food but only two to three days without liquid.

Flux and flow

In mythology, water is often depicted as feminine. The pagan symbol for women resembles a chalice cup. She represents the ebb and flow of female intuition and emotion, drawn by the monthly cycle of the moon. She is also the element of imagination, of high adventure and fairytale. Perhaps this is why, when faced with the sea, my first inclination is to sing.

Water is the element of emotion, our tears spilling through from soul to reality, the expression of love, or loss, of great joy or unspeakable pain. When words will not do, our tears speak.

Tears have healing powers

A woman who was a sinner poured precious oil over the feet of Jesus with perfume and wiped them away with her tears, and found herself forgiven.  Like the ocean, tears are salt water. Our tears, when we cry, contain a chemical called ‘lysozyme’, which washes away bacteria and prevents infection. After crying, our breathing and heart rate decrease, and we enter into a calmer emotional state. Crying releases stress hormones and other toxins and stimulates the production of endorphins, our body’s natural pain killer.

Water transforms

Almost all religions use water in their purification rituals, to symbolise cleansing, both inward and outward. When we are cleansed, we are transformed and made ready to encounter the divine. To enter the waters is a metaphorical drowning, a little death, a baptism, a rebirth. In fairytale, water is liminal, having the power to cross over worlds. Humans discover new lands and dream of adventure on distant shores; mermaids lose their tails on the sands to become recast as wretched human lovers; seals shed their coats to dance naked and free in the moonlight.

Water transcends

The tongues of the waves sculpt new landscapes, carve out rocks, transform our hard and brittle edges to soft sand. So water is at the same time destructive and constructive, building up and knocking down. The clamour of waves upon the beach calls us to greater depths – of emotion, of feeling, of spirit. The salt of the water, which echoes our own tears, invites response.

Water never stands still

Like water we are in a constant state of creative flux and flow. Ideas and energy pour through us, are born and reborn through words, paints and sounds. Like the waves, we are constantly pulled this way and that, never settling nor stopping. There are hidden depths beneath – places in which, if nurtured, beautiful things might live and grow, pearls of great price caught beneath the weeds. It is our job, as creators, to dive deep and dig them out, to polish them up as best we can, and hold them to the light for everyone to see. 

Sources:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/emotional-freedom/201007/the-health-benefits-tears

http://www.africanwater.org/religion.htm

Overcoming writer’s block - mindful tips to boost your creativity

Have you heard the one about the writer who sat down to write a piece about how to overcome writer’s block but had to give up because she couldn’t think of anything to say?

I’m guessing we’ve all been there. One minute, the ideas are coming so thick and fast that you can barely get them all out on the paper. The next, you find yourself staring at a blank page, wondering if you are really cut out for all this ‘being a writer’ lark?

The problem about so-called writer’s block is that it’s almost impossible to define. Some writers question whether it really exists at all? But as someone who has spent far too many hours staring at the blank pages of an existential crisis, all I can say that it’s all too real to me!

I thought of writing a series of friendly bullet points about how to overcome writer’s block, but it seemed somehow, too simplistic a response to a complex problem. So here’s the best I could come up with…

It’s not writer’s block, it’s a thinker’s block

One of my favourite quotes about writer’s block is from John Rogers: ‘You can’t think yourself out of a writer’s block, but you can write your way out of a thinker’s block.’ Writing is difficult. If it was easy everyone would be doing it. But giving up was never in my nature. We’re in it for the long haul, right? Most of the time when I struggle to write, it’s either because I’m tired, or lacking in confidence, or need to spend more time planning. All of these are problems that can be fixed. If all else fails, put down the pen (or iPad or mobile), take a break, have a coffee or two, or even an early night…and then start again. And again. And again, until it works.

Go easy on yourself

The thing about the creative process is that it doesn’t happen all at once, or even predictably. Usually, I begin in a blaze of enthusiasm, with a great idea, start writing it down…and then it tails off. Perhaps I haven’t planned far enough ahead, or maybe the critical editing part of my brain takes over. But sometimes ideas just need some more time to germinate. On a couple of occasions, it has taken me over a year to write a poem! So if it doesn’t happen all at once, don’t worry. Take a break, have a bath, get out into nature, feed the pigeons (for some reason, I always find feeding pigeons inspiring) and come back to it later, once your creative seed has had a chance to take root.

Switch off your inner critic

You know the one. You’re midway through writing something and all of a sudden you hear a voice inside your head telling you ‘This is no good; that’s rubbish; who would want to read that?’ or ‘Call yourself a writer? Why don’t you get a proper job?’ One of my favourite books, a children’s book by Laurie Fisher Huck called Magic Happens Inside of You refers to our inner critic as the Yackety Yak. Every time I hear mine, I imagine a big, hairy yak spouting lots of nonsense, and the image is so funny I find it hard to take it seriously any more. I also remind myself that no author ever wrote a perfect first draft, and that even a rubbish first draft is better than writing no words at all. And I carry on.

Create a habit

I know, I know, routine and habit aren’t the most exciting of things, but creating a good writing routine can help overcome those feelings of panic and not knowing how to start. A lot of writers swear by getting up at five or six in the morning and getting all your writing done before lunch (my good friend Rita has written two excellent books that way). That wouldn’t work for a night owl like me, so choose a routine that fits your lifestyle. I tend to write in the day while my daughter is at school, and then pick up any loose threads in the evening. Others find time at the weekend. Pick a time and stick with it. Writing is like training for a marathon. The more you do, the better you’ll get at it – and the easier and more natural it becomes.

Silence can be golden

Is your brain constantly crammed full of thoughts, worries, fears and ideas? Modern life is crazy busy! It’s not unusual to find me simultaneously writing a poem, cooking the dinner and sorting the washing – all the while trying to respond to my daughter’s constant demands for cheese strings, gluepots or cuddles! Our minds are stuffed to bursting. Did you know, the average person has around 50,000 to 70,000 thoughts a day?! With all that going on, it’s no wonder that sometimes our creative flow gets dammed out by all the debris blocking our minds! So stop…look…listen to the sounds around you. Take some time out. Even if you don’t practice daily meditation (and by the way, I’d highly recommend it) you can benefit by getting out into nature and spending time just ‘being’.

If all else fails…just keep writing

It’s simple, really. If you are struggling to find the right words, just write any words. Internationally acclaimed author Maya Angelou described her writing process like this: ‘What I try to do is write. I may write for two weeks ‘The cat sat on the mat, that is that, not a rat. And it might be just the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing, I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says ‘Okay. Okay, I’ll come.”

Do you suffer from writer’s block? What tried and tested methods do you have for overcoming it? Share your ideas and experiences in the comments below.

What’s holding you back? – Ditch the pebble in your shoe

I promised I would tell you about the 10 Days Writing Challenge for Conscious Leaders run by Tara Nicholle-Nelson http://www.taranicholle.com/writingchallenge/. It’s been such a whirlwind couple of weeks that this is the first proper chance I’ve had to sit and write this. But, a promise is a promise, so here goes…

The idea of the Challenge is simple: you are sent a series of daily prompts, which you then use as a basis for writing 30 minutes a day, for ten days.

I expected the prompts to be challenging, uplifting and thought-provoking. What I didn’t expect is what happened next.

A lot of the prompts were focused around the idea of creating a better vision for yourself. For the first day’s challenge, we had to create inventive titles for ourselves, using descriptions that fitted what we like to do and how we liked to be seen. I enjoyed that one. On Day 5, we were asked to write as if we were speaking to a younger version of ourselves. To my surprise, my ‘inner child’ turned out to be a disaffected teenager who was disappointed in me:

‘It could've been so different,’ she said, ‘You had so much enthusiasm, so much potential. Where did it all go wrong?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I should've listened. Real life got in the way...’

‘It’s not too late,’ she said, ‘Come here’.
She offered me her hand. I don't know why, but I took it. She walked back over to the dustbins. She sat on one, I sat on the other. Swinging our legs. Writing.
‘See,’ she said, ‘It’s not so difficult. Not once you begin...’
I turned to reply, but there was nobody next to me, only a small indent on top of the dustbin lid, where she had been sitting. Her notepad was gone too, but mine was filled with strange, unfamiliar words. I went on writing and writing. I haven’t stopped.'

But the biggest surprise came on, I think, Day 3, the title of which was ‘Breakthrough’. We were invited to write about any limiting beliefs or toxic messages we had absorbed through others which was keeping us from fulfilling our true potential. I sat down still and silent for about fifteen minutes, let my mind drift…and then it all came flooding out.

Back when I was on maternity leave, I was made redundant. Losing my job with a young baby to support was bad enough, but the manner in which it was done was deeply humiliating. As part of the rationale for ‘letting me go’, my boss had put together, in my absence and with no consultation, a document assessing my abilities. Despite having an unblemished track record and having been nominated for a national award, under the column headlined ‘Future Potential’ were the words…13 per cent.

I challenged the decision, but got nowhere and in the end, I settled for a small redundancy payout and enjoyed the chance to spend as much time as possible with my beautiful daughter. One day, when I was at the bank negotiating an overdraft, the woman cashier asked if I worked. When I told her I’d lost my job when my baby was born, she scowled at me and said ‘Oh, you’ll never work again, then’. I went home in tears, feeling an abject failure.

As soon as my daughter was at school full-time, I began freelance writing and editing. I had a steady trickle of work, and I honestly thought I had put everything behind me. But when I started on the writing prompt, out it all came….

Thirteen per cent. That figure. Somehow, in the back of my mind, that total had become lodged, like a stone in my shoe I couldn’t get out. So I looked at it. I took it out. I examined it some more.

I thought about how ridiculous it was that I’d carried that stone – for almost a decade – and allowed it to grow and grow and fester until it had molded itself to my sub-conscious. I had actually started to believe that I was worthless, that I would never do well again.

And then I thought about how ridiculous it was. How on earth could anybody put a figure on another person’s potential?!  I thought about my beautiful daughter, the moment I first saw her newborn face and perfect tiny fingers and fingernails, and of all the amazing potential she held within her – a whole life’s worth! I thought of how each one of us is a miracle of infinite potential. I realized that this number that had been limiting me for so long was just that - nothing but a random number on a page – and bore no resemblance to who I was as a person. And I made the conscious decision to throw it away.

Since then, something rather magical has happened. I have stopped saying ‘no’ to projects just because I thought I wasn’t worthy of them. I have stopped thinking of myself as a failure, limited by past hurts or disappointments. I have started valuing myself, and in the process, properly valuing other people (because they have unlimited potential too!) And the work has come flooding in – so much that I can barely keep on top of it!

I had heard of the power of positive attraction before, but I’d never really realised that my own self-doubt was the very thing that was holding me back. Once I had plucked that painful stone from my sub-conscious…I found I was able to dance!

So my message to others reading this and perhaps holding onto past hurts or feelings of disappointment or failure is this…don’t let others limit your potential. Don’t let others put a percentage on your abilities, because you have within you all the resources you need to do whatever you dream. 

Wishing you peace and blessings, always x

Ssshh….whisper it….it’s okay not to be perfect

The artist Cezanne painted the same mountain more than 60 times.

Hi there, I haven’t written for a few days, partly because I’ve been doing the Ten Day Writing Challenge http://www.taranicholle.com/writingchallenge/ (of which more later), and partly because I’ve been crazy busy juggling writing, family and work. Recently, I’ve been thinking about all the things that keep me from writing creatively. There are many, of course, and some are excuses. For instance, I often complain I don’t have enough time, but I somehow find the time to mess about on Facebook, watch funny videos of cats on YourTube and…well, you get the picture.

If I’m honest, though, the main thing that holds me back is lack of confidence. Speaking to others, I know I’m not alone in this, so I thought I’d share a few experiences. So here goes. Here are a few of my most common excuses for not writing…

‘But I’m not a writer!’

This is my greatest fear. Psychologists call it ‘imposter syndrome’ – the fear that, whatever you try to be good at, you will eventually be revealed as a fraud. When it comes to writing, it feels inappropriate, even arrogant, to award myself the same title as, say, Dylan Thomas or Shakespeare or JK Rowling. But even the most successful writers go through many drafts and face countless rejections before finding success.

Jane Austen’s early draft of Pride and Prejudice was rejected by a London publisher and left to languish on the author’s desk for a further sixteen years until it was finally published in 1813. JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series was rejected by twelve different publishing houses before becoming an international best-seller.

So just because your work isn’t hitting the best-sellers lists doesn’t mean you are not a writer. What is a writer? Simple. A writer is someone who writes. An artist is someone who makes art. A musician is someone who makes music. If you do any of these things, you qualify. You have earned the title of artist.

‘But anyone could do what I do!’

Here’s one I’m particularly guilty of. Perhaps it’s because of competitive shows like The Voice and the X Factor but it feels like, in order to be an artist, you have to be better than everybody else. Well, here’s a secret: You don’t.

I was never very keen on art at school. (Art lessons, back then, consisted of being sat down opposite a vase of flowers, or something equally dull. Those who could paint a decent vase of flowers were ‘artists’. The rest of us were not). But recently I’ve discovered Celtic art. I love the way the shapes and patterns curl and flow into one another, and drawing them makes me deeply satisfied. I’m not a brilliant artist; I make art because I enjoy it. For a long time, I hid my paintings away. I was frightened that if I showed them to others, they’d dismiss them. I felt like a fraud. What if somebody came up to me and said ‘That’s rubbish! Anyone could do that!’ Or, even worse, ‘My six-year-old child could do that?’

It was the same with my writing. I loved creating poetry but whenever I received another rejection from a literary magazine or was unplaced in a poetry competition, it felt like a slap across the face. I grew deeply jealous of the success of other poets, even to the point of resolving not to write any more. Then I realised how ridiculous I was being. Of course a lot of people could paint or write as well as me if they wanted to! But the fact is that I am doing it. It’s not about seeking others’ approval. It’s the act of creating, of leaving my mark upon the world.

These days, if somebody came up to me and said ‘but I could paint that just as well’ my response would be ‘Brilliant! I’m glad I have inspired you – now go and do it!’ Life is not a competition. You don’t have to be the best, or the best-selling, or the most successful. That’s not what creativity is for.

I was watching a TV programme a while ago about child prodigies. There was a little girl, aged about nine, who was brilliant on the piano. She was amazing, truly gifted. Yet listening to her performances, there was something missing. Yes, technically they were brilliant, but when she played she was totally static, like a machine, with no emotion. When asked after her concert why she liked playing the piano, she answered ‘Because I can win competitions’. She had been gifted with the most amazing ability, yet had failed to see the whole purpose of the music, which is uplift the spirit, to bring yourself and others joy.

‘But I’m not good enough to show people my work yet!’

Here’s another secret: The more you create, the better you will get at it. When I was living in London, I went to visit an exhibition of works by the artist Cézanne, most famous for his painting of the SainteVictoire Mountain. Did you know that he painted that same mountain over 60 times? And that’s just the ones we know about. I wonder how many more potential masterpieces ended up crumpled up in litterbins because their creator wasn’t quite happy with them?

In fact, scientists have come up with the exact formula for how much work you need to put in, in order to become good at something. They determined that it took exactly 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in any field – be it learning a new language, training for a sport, or mastering a musical instrument. Broken down, that’s around 20 hours a week over 10 years, or about two hours a day. But even if you can’t afford a full two hours (and let’s be honest, who of us can?!), just a few minutes each day will make a big difference.

Whilst we might not all be a Mozart or a Beethoven in the making, it stands to reason that when you start out on a new skill, there’s only one way to go – and that’s up! Of course, there will be pitfalls and disappointments along the way, which brings me to my next objection…

‘I can’t do it – it’s too difficult!’

Well, hmmm, yes. Most things that are worthwhile are difficult. Or, at least, they start off difficult, before they become easier, and then become more difficult again. A few years ago, my husband and I took up archery. We started off in a blaze of enthusiasm, practicing whenever we had the chance. And surprise, surprise, we got better at it! But then after a while, we didn’t seem to be getting better at it any more. Our progress hit a plateau. There were always people better than us, and we couldn’t be as good as them. It just didn’t seem worth the effort, so we stopped.

Writing can be particularly disheartening, because it is a largely solitary activity and the process of trying to get published attracts rejection. So it’s tempting to give up. Sometimes, I hit rock bottom, and have writer’s block, and can’t write another word. But then I remember why I started doing it in the first place. I didn’t start writing because I wanted to be published, or liked, or admired. I started writing because I had to, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, because I had a head full of ideas that would explode if they didn’t somehow find some manner of expression. And somehow, just realising this, makes the whole process easier.

‘But I will never be the next JK Rowling/Jane Austen (insert writer of your choice)

Of course you won’t! You were never meant to be! You are you. Nobody else in the world has your exact range of experiences, your insight, your way of expression. You are utterly unique, an individual. Nobody else sees the world through your eyes. So quit trying to be like everybody else, and focus on being the best possible version of you. If it helps, imagine you have just met someone at a party. What questions might they ask you? What stories might you tell? Start with what you know. Tell your stories, as only you know how. They are rich, they are valuable, they are beautiful; they are Yours.

Do you suffer from imposter syndrome? What stops you writing, and what are you doing about it? Write and tell me about it in the comments section below.