In ancient times, when we were closely connected to the rhythm of the seasons, on the eve of Beltane, we lit bonfires to Bel to call back the sun. We jumped over the fires to purify ourselves, and we blessed our all-important animals by leading them from winter barns to summer pastures between those bonfires. Celebrations were filled with merriment – dancing, tournaments, feasting, and love-making. Flowers were abundant and even the mysterious Green Man was sometimes visible.

There are many celebrations honoring mid-spring. At the school I went to in Sussex, we left baskets anonymously on the doorstep of an elderly or unwell neighbor. Girls woke before dawn and we bathed our faces in the dew (although it was usually soft rain). We danced around a maypole, the girls wearing wreaths and garlands and the boys covered (or so it seemed) in bells. At the end of the complex, varied, joyous dancing, the maypole was colorfully braided with the ribbons we had been dancing with.

Taine means fire and Beltaine was the celebration of Light and Fire. This is the time of year when the energy of the earth and our bodies is the strongest. Fiery Aries has moved into earthy Taurus and if you’re friends with a farmer, you’ll rarely find them socializing now – there is so much work to be done.  We’re now into the summer half of the year, a time when the sun rises early and sets late, and when everything is growing hard.

There’s good reason why the Druids honored the sun above all else: the sun is our earth’s heart. It beats now, at this time of year, with the most passion. It is in love with the earth and with the people on it. Take off your hat at sunrise and sunset, as the people of the Highlands in Scotland used to do, in honor and appreciation of our marvelous Sun.

The Elfin May May Pole

People all over the world mark the circling seasons with festivals, as they have from time immemorial, but sometimes we forget the origin of these festivals. Festivals connect us to our earthly, physical cycles of light and dark, sowing and reaping, birth and death. As a writer or any creative person, you know this intimately: you cannot create art without living and experiencing life. There’s a time to experience and a time to create.

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Writing Practice – Fertility and Creativity

But we’re not talking about young teenagers in love. We’re talking about any age, any sex, and any form of creativity: this is the time to take your heart’s work to a new level of love-making. It’s time to be passionate about what you’re doing and how you’re living.

Use this light-filled energy to grow your creation with an intensity that is unmatched the rest of the year. Wake at dawn, wash your face in morning dew, and sit outside in the early morning sunshine to write a poem. It was said that the man who washes his hands in May-dew would become particularly skillful with knots and nets. Turn that ancient skill into knotting words together or imagine your piece of writing as a beautiful silvery net to catch fish with.

And you can prepare a bountiful May basket by filling it with your favorite words, a poem you’ve written that you love, inspirational fragrance or crystals, perhaps even some delicious may-cakes. Keep it near your workspace for inspiration. Treat your writing spirit as a beloved neighbor who needs a gift of sustenance.

Here are more activities to quicken the life force of your creativity: Light a candle and jump over it (symbol of the great bonfire of Beltaine – do this with attention and care). Wander to a stream or lake or the ocean and bless the water spirits. Listen and listen even more: the words you need to write are there, ready to leap from the sparkling ripples onto your pages. If you have a small garden, or even a window box, or live on the edge of the woods, keep in mind that – like Samhain in the middle of autumn – Beltane is the time of the year when the veil between this world and the invisible world is thin and can be parted. This is when you might see or sense fairies, elves, or other elemental beings – spirits who nourish your creativity even if you can’t see them. (If you want to try to see them, wait till late in the evening, then bend a rowan or willow branch into a ring and gaze through it.)

Photo: Arturo Mann

January 2012 – It’s time for a paradigm shift. How often have you looked at a sunset and said, “I love that sky!” Or you listened to the radio and said, “I love that song!”

Recently, I realized that it’s time to experience this differently. These past few weeks, walking on the beach early every morning, contemplating the years past and the years ahead, filled with intense emotion, relentless thoughts, and focusing on the steady rhythm of my bare feet on cool sand, I continued to long for stillness, peace, and even joy. It all seemed so
elusive.

But after several days I finally heard something – a voice, a feeling? I don’t know. But I heard it distinctly. It said: “Listen to the waves.” So I stopped and listened for a long time, hour after hour, hearing as though for the first time all the subtleties of the waves, the deep, booming roar of the ocean, the crashes, the whispers, the rustle of the foam on the sand, the sweeping in and the sweeping out of so much water, the endlessness.

The process was like getting to know a strange language I had never heard before. I realized the waves are not individual entities: they speak for the whole ocean. And this is what the waves say, over and over:  “I only want to love you. Let me love you.”

In that moment the world shifted. I realized that everything in the world longs to love us: the birds, the sky, the wind, the light. Even people! You might think that you want to be loved, but imagine or remember the joy of yourself being in love. And so with nature, or the sand under our feet, or the nose of a puppy. It all wants to love you, as much or more as you love it.

So the next time you look at a sunset, hear it say this to you: “I only want to love you. Let me love you.” And when you feel the breeze on your face, or you watch a star twinkle – let it love you. Because that’s all it really wants to do.

  Now that you have spelt your lesson,
   lay it down and go and play,
   Seeking shells and seaweed
   on the sands of Monterey,
   Watching all the mighty whalebones,
   lying buried by the breeze,
   Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas.

  Robert Louis Stevenson
from ‘A Child’s Garden of Verses’

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Writing Practice – You Are the Beloved

Photo: JaneArt

We’ve been programmed to think that selflessness and doing good deeds for others are vital for our wellbeing. We’ve been told that sticking with a lousy job, an abusive boss, and bleak sacrifice is what life is about. Self-denial is part of our existence.

That’s all true, to an extent. But it’s not the whole story. What matters most in the world is you. You need to care first and foremost about yourself. Everything you do and care and feel and think needs to be with you at your center, no one else. You are the dearest, the kindest human in your life. You are the sun – let the others orbit around you. And that way your light shines on them and they flourish and grow and shine as well.

By loving yourself, I’m not advocating selfishness or greed! It’s the opposite, in fact. Greed is not loving yourself – greed and selfishness will make you sick, just as it makes the world sick. Loving yourself means being as kind and loving toward yourself as you would be toward someone you love very dearly.

That’s all very well and good, I hear you say, But how can we do it? Years of conditioning, of people telling you the opposite or setting your value in terms of wealth or attractiveness or success makes it impossible. So what is the process? How can you practice this?

Since you love to write, begin by using Writing as your main practice. How often have you said, “I love that poem”” Or, “What a great word – I love it!” Now turn the experience around: Words, sentences, grammar, stories – they all want to love you. Let them. Let a word adore you. Allow a sentence to speak its pleasure in being with you. Enjoy the poem’s gift of loving you.

Look at a phrase or a paragraph in your story and surrender to it. For this writing practice, the effort is not to feel you are the master of your work. Let it love you. Let it pamper you, take care of you, worship you, adore you. Let the poem say, “This is for you. Enjoy!” Surrender to the love your words have for you.

Think of surrender not as giving up, but giving. Think of it in the same way the sun surrenders to its orbit and the moon surrenders to being a reflection in silver light.

Or the candle surrenders to being lit.

Or a flower surrenders to its own fragrance.

Surrender to being your own light, your own happiness, your own fragrance, your own beating heart. Surrender to yourself.

All else falls into place around you.

You are the beloved.
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Daily Happinesses

• precision as you cut the diamond
• belonging
• a flight of fancy
• nestled under the wing of a chicken
• what the raven said

They say that the Sami people, who live in the land closest to the Arctic Circle, have over a thousand words for snow, but none for just ‘snow’ – as we refer to it. I’ve often felt that our word ‘love’ could use  at least 1,000 words to replace how we generally use it, and yet the closest I’ve discovered for  a more specific meaning is when I heard someone ask, “Do you love him or do you love-love him?”

We could do better!

And words don’t – can’t – describe the experience of grief. Since my mother’s death last summer, I often find myself breaking into sudden sobs. Yet I’m not “sad” – that’s not the feeling. Sometimes I’ll experience an intense rush of closeness, or of memory, or I’m flooded with passionate love.

We’re told there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Perhaps that’s so – but none of these words describes the actual, very personal, experience – it just describes certain stages.  Your anger is different than mine – yours may be felt through shrieks of rage; mine might be a white hot ache.

Your denial might be through dancing and singing; mine might be a catatonic numbness. We may share a process – and, as everyone knows who has experienced death, the process of grief is not linear. It’s more like an expanding balloon, those five classic stages layering on top of each other, now this one, now that one, and finally settling around us like a cocoon of acceptance – or at least an acceptance of the inevitability of it all.

Or perhaps when someone we love dies we are thrust inside an enormous cocoon of “grief” (what’s the right word?) and slowly those stages are lifted away and we’re back to being ourselves again.

How can the brief word “grief” encompass such an experience?

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Writing Practice – Making Up Words

Shakespeare made up hundreds of words – why don’t we?

The point is not that there are no words – it’s that there are too many. Or they are yet unnamed. Or they change – and now most words need to become verbs. I’m resialing. I’m grangering. Now it’s time to bergraner, but I feel too prussed.

I don’t seek peace – I’m peacing.

Make up your own words for an intense emotion you’re feeling. What does betrayal really sound like? What does anticipation really sound like – when you specifically anticipate something coming up soon?

I also recommend that you subscribe to Wordsmith.org. This daily word – along with its meaning and etymology – that shows up in your inbox is presented with such lightness, unusualness, and affection that you immediately get a sense that the marvelous Anu Garg has a love for words – not just an interest in them. Do you know what a “yob” is and where the word came from?

And what is a lacuna, after all?

Daily Happinesses

 As I was conversing with a WriteSpa client, and we were discussing assignments and goals, I asked her where she wrote. She hesitated, then said, “It’s a bit problematic…I don’t have a laptop and my computer’s in the living room. I don’t really have a place for it.”

From the way she spoke, I could tell that using “the computer” was for her a chore, a bit of a nuisance, something that she ‘should’ turn on and use, like a vacuum cleaner, perhaps. I knew that for her to have a satisfying relationship with Mr. Write, the ambience surrounding the area where she worked was crucial.

This is not true for everyone. I have friends who are most inspired to write when they’re with a crowd of strangers at a Starbucks. Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote on the dining room table, in the midst of a great deal of hustle and bustle. Jane Austen snuck her time in between morning calls (which happen, by the way, in the afternoon). Some authors write in their head, some in bed, some can only do it with a secretary on hand to take down the words.

You need to know what works for you in terms of place. You need to decide what makes you feel secure, at ease, and in a space that you can enjoy. Even if you have to squeeze in Writing between a cup of coffee and taking the kids to school, you’ll find much more pleasure if you surround that brief time with ritual, with some form of beauty, with its own mood.

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Writing Practice – Setting Up Your Space

Fragrance: No matter where you choose to write, decide on a fragrance that you will use exclusively for writing. Choose an essential oil that speaks to you – sandalwood, rosewood, jasmine … whatever you’d like, but one that is not too familiar. Save it for Writing. Smell this each time you’re preparing to open your document. You’ll find it helps enormously when, in the weeks and months to come, you find yourself stuck, depressed, or distracted from Writing, or if you find yourself traveling in another town, far from home, and yearn to write. Through your olfactory glands, your habit of finding pleasure in Writing will be triggered in your memory, and will be reignited. Create the habit now.

Do something that is beautiful in your writing space. A vase of flowers, for example. A crystal. A piece of colored silk. A pinecone. Something that harmonizes and centers you, and reminds you that this moment is between you and Flow and nothing else. If you’re planning on taking your laptop to the local coffee shop, wear a color that inspires, or slip on a pair of shoes you particularly like.

Personally speaking, I wouldn’t listen to music while I write. I know music inspires many people, but I think it undermines the relationship between your heart and your words, because your heart is pulled by the music on the machine, instead of the music of the spheres. Try writing without artificial music for a while and see what happens. You can always go back to it.

Dears, comfort is essential. A supporting chair, or soft couch, or a bed piled high with luxurious pillows – choose what makes you comfortable, but be comfortable. This exercise is about loving the experience of Writing. It’s about appreciating its worth in your life – not about angst, feeling scratchy, or suffering. It’s about wonder, awe, gratitude – and opening another window into what it means to be human.

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Daily Happinesses

• the loud sound of a leaf falling on a still afternoon
• a silver fish in a silver net that can talk and grant wishes
• swimming in a mountain lake in autumn
• a small favor that resonates
• meeting at the street fair
• scraping off the barnacles
• happy birthday wishes

Conflict

I loathe conflict, which, for a novelist, is a terrible thing. This summer I tried to appreciate conflict by playing chess, after many years’ hiatus.

Here’s how Manly Hall describes chess (I’m paraphrasing – check out his book): “The chessboard consists of 64 squares alternately black and white and symbolizes the floor of the House of the Mysteries. Upon this field of existence or thought move a number of strangely carved figures, each according to fixed law. The white king is Ormuzd; the black king, Ahriman; and upon the plains of Cosmos the great war between Light and Darkness is fought through all the ages. Of the philosophical constitution of man, the kings represent the spirit; the queens the mind; the bishops the emotions; the knights the vitality; the castles, or rooks, the physical body. The pieces upon the kings’ side are positive; those upon the queens’ side, negative. The pawns are the sensory impulses and perceptive faculties – the eight parts of the soul. The game of chess sets forth the eternal struggle of each part of man’s compound nature against the shadow of itself. The nature of each of the chessmen is revealed by the way in which it moves; geometry is the key to their interpretation. The castle (the body) moves on the square; the bishop (the emotions) moves on the slant; the king, being the spirit, cannot be captured, but loses the battle when so surrounded that it cannot escape.”

My re-emergence into the world of chess inspired me to take up another old favorite: Sun Tzu’s Art of War. He has some excellent advice (replace ‘war’ with ‘story-telling’).

“In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy’s country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not good. So, too, it is better to recapture an entire army than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or a company entire than to destroy them.” In other words, if you’re trying to win your lady or get the job, you don’t do it by storming her apartment or surrounding that office. Getting to the heart of the matter from within works much better – and creates a much better novel.

And Sun Tzu describes six types of terrain, one of which he calls Precipitous Heights. “If you are beforehand with your adversary, you should occupy the raised and sunny spots and from there wait for him to come up.” In other words…arrange a picnic.

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Writing Practice – Make Luft, Not War

WriteSpa – An Oasis for Writers

One of my grandmother’s – and my mother’s – favorite tenets in life was this: “Don’t let your possessions possess you.”

Traveling as they both did, during tumultuous times, when you could count on very little, and yet both of them owning some of the loveliest items in the world (an antique Renaissance dining table, exquisite Victorian glassware from my grandmother’s grandmother, rare Florentine leather-bound books, signed paintings from aspiring and famous artists), it must have been hard to know what was important to keep and what was important to let go.

When my mother was ten years old, she and her family were living in a tiny fishing village in Caldes d’Estrach in Spain. When civil war erupted in the late 1930’s, they were ‘rescued’ by a British destroyer that moved into the bay to evacuate them, since they were the only Americans residing in that area. My mother and her brother and sister were told they could only bring three things with them: a bathing suit, a sweater, and evening dress.

My father brought his extensive library with him wherever we traveled. What other possessions possessed our family? Silks from India, amethysts from Persia, herbs from Catalonia … these all seemed of vital importance to my mother. Also the wooden plates we’d had since the time we lived in Greece and the copper mug my brother made in school… even trying to live as simply as my parents did, some things made the crucial ‘to keep’ list.

But most possessions were constantly left behind, with neighbors, friends, or at a vendor in a flea market in Rome, or at a local charity shop in an English village.

Freedom from too many ‘things’ made the great adventure of travel, which seemed at the heart of my parents’ life together, much more pleasurable.

Writing Practice: The last ten things.

Imagine this: you are alone on a desert island-like-place, and you can only have ten items for the rest of your life. You have no electricity or form of energy outside what you can create yourself (in other words, no laptop or cell phone). Which ten items would you want to surround yourself with?

Most of the time, these are mine:

1. pencil
2. paper
3. guitar (with extra guitar strings)
4. 12 yards of colorful silk (to dance with, clothe myself, keep warm in, use as shelter)
5. a deck of Tarot cards
6. a book (the title always changes)
7. a bed
8. a pillow
9. a cup
10. a pocket knife

What are yours? Write them down. Then go to the next part of this writing exercise:

Remove five of these most vital possessions in your life. What are you left with?

Now remove two more. Reiterate the situation in your imagination: you’re left on a desert island, entirely alone, with only three items for the rest of your life. What are they?

Now remove another.

And another.

So now you discover the one item that you feel you would like to have with you, when all else is gone. For me, the first time I did this, the outcome was a surprise.

I do this exercise for myself every few years or so, and find the first ten items are remarkably stable.

I do it for my main character every time I write a novel, and find it gives me enormous insight into the essence of their being.

• Fresh mangoes falling into the hammock
• Red roofs of Rome
• Diving into the pool
• The greatest kindness
• Smooth sailing
• Brilliant sparkles on the waves
• Knowing the way

WriteSpa – An Oasis for Writers

Photo:C R

She taught by example.

I was only in her class for half a year because we went a-traveling again, but because of my parents’ unorthodox lifestyle, we’d return to New York at least once a year throughout my childhood, and I’d be plopped back into Mrs. Zay’s classroom. The methodology of the school was such that one ‘main’ teacher remained with the class from 1^st through 8^th grades, so Mrs. Zay became a lodestone in my early years. When I was abroad, I wrote long letters to her, sent her postcards and gifts from far-off places. And whenever I was back in the States, I knew she’d always be there for me.

I grew up and we lost touch. Then, when my own daughter was in 2^nd grade, I encountered Mrs. Zay again – teaching 2^nd grade at an entirely different school in a different state! I didn’t know how I’d move, but I’ll never forget her saying with the quiet, kind authority I remembered well: “If your daughter needs to be here, you will make it happen.”

And it was true: I found work and a place to live, and Mrs. Zay was my daughter’s beloved teacher for the next several years. In one of her earliest essays she describes a beautiful ‘garden of children’ that Mrs. Zay grows.

These are some of the things her students remember: the feeling of reverence she had for everything. Never wasting anything – it was a point of pride for us to draw with our beeswax crayons until there was hardly anything left. Always singing while we did our chores. Taking out the compost for fun. Playing recorder every morning. Long walks in nature while she told us amazing stories.

Semi-retired now, Jean Zay is the librarian in my daughter’s former school, and I try as often as possible to visit her sunny, peaceful room, simply to be in her presence. Even after all these years, she continues to inspire me with her grace, kindness, and beauty, and most of all her quality of “always being there” for me.

Writing Practice – Imagine Being Your Own Teacher

We all need teachers. Sometimes they come in the guise of mentors, sometimes as friends, sometimes your children can be your teachers. Teaching and learning is the essence of living.

Imagine yourself as a child – your sense of wonder is still vibrant, and your eager soul and open heart shine from you. Now imagine a guide approaches and states: “I am your teacher.”

Can you describe this being? What language is spoken, which words are used? Is the lesson filled with play, with games, with depth, with wisdom, with drawing and color? With music?

When you were a child, what kind of ‘class’ would you have longed most of all to be a part of?

I loved playing alone on my rocky beach on a Greek island, but when I walked into Mrs. Zay’s serene classroom in New York City for the first time, and saw the flower-like rows and rows of boys and girls all staring at me, I thought I was in the most magical place in the world. What would your ideal be? Perhaps you just want to curl up in a window-seat and read all day – your books are your teacher. Perhaps you long to follow a stream – and the stream is your teacher.

Imagine you are your own best teacher.

Yes, in the end, you are your own best teacher, so you may as well learn to learn from yourself. To trust yourself and enjoy the classes! To approach yourself with the wonder and passion of your child-nature. In this writing practice, visualize precisely the teacher you wish you had, and then become that being. It’s never too late to go to school.

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• Toast, olive oil, fresh tomatoes, and garlic
• The amazing world of honeybees
• New pajamas
• A gift card
• The smell of fresh ground coffee wafting onto the street
• Knowing the emptiness
• Diving in

WriteSpa – An Oasis for Writers

“Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.” Mae West

A few years ago I read Carl Honore’s In Praise of Slow, where he writes about a growing movement that encourages savoring the time you have rather than trying to use it to further another goal – especially in the case of raising our children. He made some powerful points (although he admits he got a speeding ticket while he was researching the book). The Slow Movement has been growing much faster than you might think from its name – and I hope it continues to do so.

Some people (Wikipedia, for example) say the Slow Movement began in 1986, when people protested the opening of a McDonald’s restaurant in the beautiful and ancient Piazza di Spagna, Rome. Since then, there have been groups devoted to Slow Food, Slow Parenting, Slow Travel, Slow Design – and most recently I perused Nicole Daedone’s exquisitely titled Slow Sex.

Of course the Slow Movement is not all that new: the Romantics and the Transcendentalists propounded living free from the fast-paced, rat-race to nowhere, and instead going inward – to be still and to appreciate being in nature.

The Slow Movement builds on these concepts. There are benefits – ethical, individual, social, and spiritual – to doing what you do at the right speed, that is, the speed that suits the activity. It’s bringing mindfulness to your practice. Mindfulness simply means being with what is – no judgment, no analysis: being an active presence in the moment. I thought about this a lot when I listened to this recording of crickets in high summer. The artist slowed down the sounds to our human lifespan relative to the crickets’ lifespan – and what is rendered here is the music of the spheres. (This is worth listening to!)

If you’re not taking pleasure in writing down each word, in savoring the tastes and sounds you describe, in imagining deeply the tenderness or pathos in your character’s heart, you’re missing out on the most satisfying aspect of writing.

Try this for a week or two: let your purpose in doing anything be the activity itself. Even wash your dishes mindfully (skip the dishwasher). Appreciate each lovely dish, let yourself be mesmerized by the sparkling soap bubbles, feel the warm water caressing your fingers, experience the satisfaction of stroking the sink clean.

Put away your laptop for a while and instead get out a pen and a notepad. Now gaze out the window for a while. If possible, wander outside and lie in the hammock.

Write down a word: for example, perhaps that word is ‘buttercup.’ You want to write for writing’s sake. That is the pleasure you get out of doing it.

Buttercup.

Look at the buttercup. Only one buttercup – not all of them. Write down another word. “Sturdy stem.” Oops, that’s two. Well, that’s okay. Feel the breeze on your cheek.

Maybe it’s time to eat the chilled raspberries in the refrigerator and describe them. How do they feel on your tongue? Take it slowly – see what words bubble up for you when you’re not trying to churn out an article or scene in your novel. You might be surprised at the metaphor that is trying to find its way onto your notepad.

Slow writing is about loving what you’re doing and being loved by it. Become intimate with your writing – savor it – treat it like a lover. You’ll be amazed how it reciprocates.

• A small favor
• Going to the movies in the afternoon
• Dressing up
• Cantering on a black horse across the moor
• Rereading ‘Lorna Doone’
• Spending a rainy afternoon exploring the attics
• Just before waking up

WriteSpa – An Oasis for Writers

Against the great panorama of the Middle Ages, when brave knights wore shining armor and rescued lovely maidens in distress, and castles loomed before one then disappeared in gray mists; where a crucial quest awaited anyone adventurous enough to seek it;; where the qualities of chivalry, honor, loyalty warred with desire, greed, and dogma – a powerful novel emerged: Parzival, the tale of a boy who longed to become a knight and serve King Arthur.

Parzival is a good boy and an even better man. He is courteous, obedient, delightful to look at, and charming in every way. He does his duty as conscientiously as possible. He is, to a fault, desirous of being liked and, for the most part, he always does what he is told.

That is, until he encounters a group of knights for the first time. In an instant, he recognizes his heart’s desire: to become a knight himself. His mother, desperately unhappy at his insistence on setting off in his dead father’s footsteps, dresses him in Fool’s clothing, gives him a sway-backed horse that is unlikely to travel far, and offers advice that she hopes will have him scurrying back home to her within a matter of days. Cheerfully, gratefully, and stubbornly, Parzival kisses her goodbye and sets off.

Parzival asks for advice frequently, and takes the advice he is given literally. The innocent boy passes through many strange adventures, heartbreaks, fearsome battles, and dream-like encounters, before he is given the rare opportunity not only of finding the vigilantly-guarded castle in which the Grail is hidden, but the Grail itself, that mysterious vessel that is the source of unlimited nourishment – the source of life – to all who are in its presence.

However, failing to save the Fisher-King from the agony of his terrible wound, because he politely followed the advice of a well-meaning knight who had urged him on no account to ask too many questions, Parzival angrily disavows knighthood, society, God, and even his beloved wife. He retreats into the forest, a rebel, a seeker, and stays with an old Hermit in the darkest part of the woods, where he learns deeper truths than mere conventions can teach him.

Many years pass, and eventually Parzival proves himself noble, brave, loyal, and seeks redemption. He has hurt many people, through no fault of his own, but simply through ignorance and the desire to do the right thing. Now, by understanding his authentic nature and following his own heart, he is able to, one by one, make those wrongs right again.

By redeeming himself in this way, Parzival is given a rare second chance to ask the Fisher-King the all-important question, the question that will heal his frightful wound and be the salvation of the kingdom.

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Writing Practice – Write Your Own Quest Story

This practice requires a Tarot deck. If you don’t have one, use a regular playing deck. Shuffle your cards, then fan them out in front of you. Select three cards and lay them out in the form of a chalice, or grail, with the stem at the bottom and the cup part on the top. Look at the cards for a while. Let them sink into you. Don’t try to figure out their meaning, but instead let a question come to you. If you see a queen of swords or spades, what kind of figure might she play in your story? How about the ace of pentacles or diamonds? Listen for the question, and then begin to write.

Set your tale against the delightful Medieval backdrop of fabulous tournaments, mysterious castles, noble (or not) crusades, powerful kingdoms, and strange mythical creatures. Use the ornate, charming, courteous language of centuries past. Consider the themes of love, chivalry, and honor to weave your story to its conclusion.

Your task in this exercise is to delve into the significance of imagery and archetypes. Look at the archetypes in the Major Arcana of your Tarot deck, beginning with Parzival, the Fool. Why is he looking up at the sky instead of down at the cliff’s edge? What is that dog doing there? Pick up another card: what do the swords, the cups, the wands, or the pentacles remind you of? When Parzival saw three drops of blood in the white snow, why was it three, and not four or seven? What do various numbers represent? What about color: what do you feel when you see red? Why was the Red Knight dressed all in red, from head to foot, and even his horse was red? What planet is associated with red? When you see red, what do you know about yourself?

Bring into your story the symbolism of the stars: in the story of Parzival, when Saturn is in the sky at the time of the full moon, the fisher king’s wound gets so painful he shrieks in agony. What is it about Saturn that can bring such suffering?

Ask a question. For example, if faced with making a decision based on love or honor, which would you choose?

Or, if you loved someone with all your heart, would you rather they were ugly by day and beautiful by night, or the reverse? (Or is there another answer?)

As you write, turn your back on any assumptions you might have about doing it well and properly, and instead delve into your own heart for something deeper. Just as Parzival retreated into the woods and remained with the Hermit to learn about himself, use this writing practice as a way of going inward.

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Daily Happinesses

• The herald approaching on horseback
• Fields of poppies and tall grass
• Spreading out the picnic blanket
• The lamps lit late in the evening
• Wedding bells

How do we write about kissing and kisses and all the delightful pleasurable possibilities that accompany one of the loveliest activities in the world?

Now, I’m not necessarily just talking about kissing on the mouth, or having fun with tongue! What about those extraordinary moments when a stranger kisses your arm with a fingertip? Or the spring sunshine kisses your eyelids? Or a lover you thought you knew well surprises you with kisses on the back of your knees or the underside of your wrist?

The thing to remember when you write about kisses – and, even better, when you experience them! – is to become aware of all your five senses. Don’t get lost in your head. That’s why surprise is so marvelous: it brings you instantly into the moment. So stop thinking about where this relationship is going (or where it’s been), and instead become conscious of the temperature of the air around you, the fragrance of the pikake lei, the salty waves buoying you. Listen to the owl hoot or the music from a neighbor’s piano floating through an open window. Taste and touch are good, but so are smell and sound. By becoming aware of sensation, you become aware of being in the present moment, and when you’re in the present moment with a kiss, it’s magnified a thousandfold.

You don’t have to be in a relationship to experience kisses. Kisses come in every form: in the breeze, or meeting your lips in a mirror, or kissing a rose, or snuggling with your cat. Think about kisses as a blessing, and remember that you can bless yourself – you don’t need someone else to do it for you.

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Fun Writing Practice – Writing about Kisses

Practice the art of surprise. If you don’t have a lover to practice this with, use nature or a pet. Be creative. See that tree, with the sap running through its veins with the passion of springtime? What does it feel like to press your lips against its gorgeous bark?

Every day for one whole week, find something different to kiss and then write a detailed description of the experience.  See that door that you go through every day? Maybe you haven’t really paid attention to it – seen its lovely wood, or the scratch that reminds you of a story. Doors are portals into yourself: kiss the door and write down what it feels like (remember to use all your senses – what do you hear? Is there a dog barking somewhere? Is it windy?)

Be creative in your kisses. Kissing your child’s forehead when she doesn’t expect it brings joy to you both. Kissing your puppy brings you joy – that’s why people cuddle and kiss puppies! Kissing is a good thing.

But you don’t need a child or a puppy to experience that joy – kiss your life. Surprise yourself.

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Daily Happinesses

• Snuggling into the sleeping bag
• Fresh beignets for breakfast
• A friendly arm around your shoulder
• Real gold coins pouring down your chimney
• Redemption
• Lace gloves and silk stockings
• Making sense of things

P.S. If you’re looking for a pleasurable, playful spring book to read, my latest novel, A PERFECT GEM, is now available in e-book format (Kindle, Nook, Epub, or any e-book platform). It’ll be available in print (softcover & hardcover) in early May