How do we maintain our authority while staying open to learning new things? How do we know when to listen to what others tell us, take it in, and change what we are doing — and how do we know when to hold fast to what we know is true?
Learning who we are through writing:
One of the best ways to find out who we are, to get in touch with our authentic voice, is through writing. I found my authentic voice for the first time when I went into therapy when I was 32 years old. I kept a journal for my therapist and, because I was paying for the therapy out of my own pocket and didn’t want to waste one dime, I wrote the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the messy truth for the first time in my life.
This process was exhilarating and terrifying. But, because I persisted even though I was terrified at times, I found an inner sacred gold mine, and I have not lost touch with it since. That is why I am a bit of a fanatic when it comes to doing whatever I can to help restore writing to people from whom it has been stolen. I believe writing is a civil right, and that most of us have our writing shamed out of us because we are taught writing by people who are not writers.
I used to be one of those people teaching writing who did not write. I did the best I could with what I knew at the time, but I am absolutely certain that, because of my teaching, some people are walking around right at this minute thinking, “I am not a writer.” I did not mean to teach them this story, but I’m afraid this is the story they learned from me because I thought my job was to look for their mistakes instead of finding and celebrating their glory.
Now, one of my greatest joys is helping people discover the brilliant writer living inside them. Let me make this clear: I do not teach people how to write. Instead, I help people learn how to listen and trust what is deeply inside of them.
Here is an example of this process:
A fourth-grade boy told me that when writing was hard for him, he felt like a rocket ship blowing up. I didn’t tell him to give me more concrete, specific details. Instead, I got interested. “Tell me more about the rocket ship,” I said, leaning toward him, fully present and full of eager expectation.
“Well,” he said as he went inside to find the answer, “I’m a rocket ship and I’m someplace where there are rocket ships all around me. All the other rocket ships are taking off but I’m stuck. I just keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter until I explode.”
“Where did he go to get the answer,” I asked the other students. They knew. They saw him do it. He went inside. That’s where his authority lies. Always. He is the boss of his own writing. He knows what is true for him. I don’t. I can’t know. But I am interested. (One of the best compliments I’ve ever received was from a seventh grade boy who told me, “Vicki Hannah Lein has taught me I am the author of my own life.” The process I’m sharing is how I did that.)
“Tell me about the explosion,” I said to him.
“Well,” he said, thinking, “I explode into so many pieces I’m afraid I’ll never be able to find all of me again.” Have you ever felt that you have exploded into so many pieces you might not ever be able to find all of you again? Can you believe a 10-year-old boy said this? This kind of writing brings me to my knees.
I am not teaching this boy at a summer writers retreat for gifted children. This is my first lesson with the class in a school that has about 50% of its children on free and reduced lunch. Writing this profound is not an unusual occurrence for me when I teach writing. This kind of writing is laying in wait in all of us. Sometimes this passion lies quietly and sometimes it stirs up quite a fuss.
So what happens to this Authority, this authentic expression of who we truly are?
I’m going to let you ponder these questions for the next week: What happens to our authority, our belief in ourselves? Where did it go? When did we lose it? Who did we give it to? How can we get it back?
All these questions I will answer in next week’s blog installment. Is this a dirty trick? I hope not! I think these questions are worth thinking about. And I have confidence that if you entertain these questions, answers will come to you. These questions are worth thinking about. These questions are worth discussing.
Stay tuned.
Vicki