Posted tagged ‘tips for writing’

More on Writer’s Block, Yoga, Pearl–Weaning Yourself From the Dependence on Acknowledgement i.e. Pats

October 6, 2010

 

Writing Beside Pearl (Only She Usually Maintains A Slightly Bigger Private Space.) (Also, sorry for Apple plug...)

 

Yesterday, thinking about yoga and my dog Pearl, I wrote about blocking writer’s block through finding a seat in your blank page.  Mulling over these issues further made me think about the time, some years ago, when I stopped going to yoga classes.

I practice Astanga yoga and had gone to six or seven classes a week for some years.  Then suddenly, it all got too expensive, and more importantly, too stressful.

It is very easy in a Guru-oriented practice like yoga to fixate on your teacher–to obsess over whether you are pleasing him or her, to (on the inside) constantly beg for approval.  It is easy to fixate on your fellow students too.  (Why are they getting all the assists?  Does my teacher even like me?  Is it the sweat?)

These types of thought patterns can turn one literally into a downward dog, sniffing constantly for a simulated treat.  (Think “spaniel”.)

Now, Pearl, my fifteen-year old dog, is a very different kettle of canine.  She is not averse to pats, but she won’t perform for them.   (It’s cheese or nothing.)   She likes to be quietly near her human; but she doesn’t grovel.  (Except, that is, if there’s cheese, and, perhaps–if you start it–the occasional belly rub.)

 

Perhaps A Belly Rub

 

Doing yoga to score points with a cool teachery type (at least two earrings in one of his ears, one nose stud for the female nostril)  is clearly unyogic, but doing yoga in isolation is also pretty difficult.   Often I feel sluggish and apathetic.  Even so, I generally can make myself go through the motions because of three basic reasons: (i) it is what I do;  (ii) it makes me feel good, and (iii) it is one of my few clear channels to a greater Self.

Writing is very much like that (if you leave out the sweat.)  It is fun to take a writing class; it is fun to write with a buddy–but how do you keep going without the pats of your colleagues; without acknowledgement, and no certainty of an audience.

First, you have to tell yourself that writing is simply what you do.

Secondly, you have to focus on the physical pleasure of writing–the flow of energy through your arms, the dance of your fingertips.  You have to let yourself understand that even writing “tada tada tada” can be a sensual experience.  (Much less the word “sensual.”)  And what about the elation of scribbling off that last sentence?   (Tada!)

Three–you have to let yourself enjoy your greater Self–the mind’s eye that reads what you write before you even get it down.

Finally, find your inner Pearl–that part of you which will not shy from a pat, but won’t perform a trick for it.  This is hard, but recognize that when you just let your self write–the physical pleasure, the verbal company, and the sheer satisfaction of doing what you do–will be enough to carry you forward.

(And, probably, to maintain integrity, you should maintain a safe distance from…cheese.)

 

Cheese!

 

For more on blocking writer’s block, click here or check out the category from the ManicDDaily homepage.

Blocking Writer’s Block – Find Your Asana (Like Pearl)

October 5, 2010

Pearl Precarious.

I’m back to blocking writer’s block today, inspired by two main muses–yoga (my practice) and Pearl (my dog).

The Sanskrit term for a yoga posture is “asana,” meaning seat.  As many yoga teachers will tell you, to get into a posture–even a standing pose–you need to find your seat.  This does not mean to find the spot where you are at ease, but a spot where, over time, you may find ease–that is,  a posture that you steadily maintain for that time.

Pearl, my fifteen-year old dog, is a master of finding such ease even in the most precarious of positions–the edge of a bed, the center of a stack of clothes folded into a suitcase, the bag that we jam her into when we are trying to sneak her into some dog-free zone.

Despite her adaptability, however, Pearl can be quite particular about her chosen “seat.”  If left to her own devices, she will almost always seek out the softest spot–the one place on the bed where she can get down to some high thread-count sheets, the piece of paper or pillow that has  inadvertently dropped onto the floor.

Pearl Left To Her Own Devices

Neither Pearl nor many great yogis suffer much from writer’s block.  Their presence alone tends to be their message, their written words immaterial.   Nonetheless, they offer valuable lessons to the struggling writer: learn to make yourself comfortable wherever and whenever you are.  Your seat is your page.  Settle into it without too much regard to external circumstances–in a subway car, for example, or train;  while waiting in line or for a doctor’s appointment;  whenever you have a moment–even when you are not sure whether you have an idea.

In the midst of your openesss to circumstance, however, be choosey!  Like Pearl, exercise a certain discrimination as to where you and your page physically plant yourself within the parameter of anywhere.  On the subway, for example, if one seat feels better than another–for me, it’s the ones at the ends of the cars–sit in that seat.  If one side of a cafe isn’t working, change to the other.

Up to a point, that is!  The yogi takes his asana slowly, careful of alignment and placement, and then, when all that’s as good as it will get,  the yogi makes, through his breath, space.   (BTW, by his, I mean, her.)

Use your writing as a kind of breath to open up your physical and mental space, as a breath to make your page a place where you can survive.

(If you feel like someone is looking over your shoulder, congratulate yourself on finding a reader.)

In Her Preferred Position