Tag: memoir

schat“…….(on)Writing: shitty first drafts. Butt in chair. Just do it. You own everything that happened to you. You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves in your heart–your stories, visions, memories, songs: your truth, your version of things, in your voice. That is really all you have to offer us, and it’s why you were born

Annie Lamott

I’ve been getting my stories down on paper for the last 3 years.  Now What? 

Save

Blogging StoryTelling

harpatkripaluJULY 2007, KRIPALU CENTER FOR YOGA & HEALTH, Lenox, MA
I was sitting in the back left corner where they stored the blankets and backjacks.  Its the spiritual-gua in ‘feng-shui-speak’, of the Main Chapel and I was self-soothing with my harp, Angelina.  It was a safe spot where I knew I could recover from the day’s stress.   I had gotten reamed out by a 6’2” incredibly handsome Native American Indian chief for playing with his eagle feathers.  Who knew?!  “Don’t touch!” he screamed at me just after I had picked up a heavily decorated bundle of them.  My hands just can’t resist touching sometimes.

Just being in this space was soothing, but being here at Kripalu with “Angelina” was really special.  I’d had many different experiences with her here, and I can certainly attest to the commonly held belief that harps are magical.   To be at Kripalu with my harp is a union of magic & spirit that keeps me coming back to this place, still.

The chapel was being set up for the weekend finale and all was a buzz with joyful, anticipatory energy.  Volunteers were setting up back jacks, audio people were untangling wires, musicians were tuning, someone was playing with the lights, and I was just plum excited to be a part of it all. I had been part of the geek squad doing A/V for years.  I longed to be part of the musicians group.   Later that day, over 400 people would crowd into this sacred space together for the highlighted concert featuring spiritual music from many different world traditions.  And of course that would include the bhakti yogi community which includes the chanters, musicians, dancers, and various others.  Not everyone who practices yoga practices asana.

I was one of the unpaid volunteers that happily did whatever was asked of me and thus I was assigned to the group of pow wow drummers which is how I came to be with the Indian Chief.  It was my responsibility to attend their workshop and satisfy their needs as a representative of Kripalu.
Well, I learned that one does not touch an Indian Chief’s Eagle feathers.  It really upsets them.

So, I’m on the floor strumming my strings and soothing my rattled ego, when a tall, thin, young, African-American man came up to me and introduced himself as Akim Funk Buddah.     He was in the chapel doing a sound check for his performance later that day.  All the other performers were using live music with live musicians.  He, on the other hand, was using only recorded music but wanted to include some live music too, but how?  It was literally the ‘11th hour’ and he only had himself, it was much too late to call in any of his musician friends.

“Hey!  Would you play your harp during my performance? ” he asked.    I had no idea what his performance was, I’d never heard of him before, but, I thought, ” I’ve loved everything that I’ve heard here at Kripalu so how bad could it be?”.  Of course, all the ‘I’m not good enough’ thoughts crowded into my mind too.  Those thoughts were really, really loud!  But, I reminded myself, again, ” I’m at Kripalu and nothing here can harm me and I’ve been sitting in the spiritual corner?  It’ll be ok.”    Faith & I were friends at Kripalu.

So, I leaped at the opportunity!  Have harp, will share…..you know?   I explained that I wasn’t exactly a pro but I would do what I could.  He only had 10 minutes to rehearse with me, and that was it.  Up until that point every performer and workshop leader had offered music that induced a spiritual trance state.  There were sitars, harmoniums, drums, gongs, bowls, and shakers of every kind.  So when Akim put on his recorded music, which I hadn’t heard before I impulsively agreed to play, and performed his ‘act’,  I went into a complete panic!  Yipes!  It was Rap to some electronic beat rhythm!  “That’s not music,” my judging mind shouted at me.  I revolted and rebelled and reminded myself of how much I resist that genre of music.

me_harp_kripaluSo, how do I play the harp with this?   Not a clue.  My higher self said “just play, do your dharma, let go of outcome, dedicate  it to the well-being of all, see what happens.”  But still, there was no melody to get in tune with, nor were there chord progressions, or harmonies, or opportunities for arpeggios to embellish and add to his performance.    Harp & Rap?

I played.

They cheered.

And later I heard from many how absolutely mesmerizing it was to hear/feel those harpstrings weave in and out and all around the heavy electronic beat of this rappers rap.   No one had ever heard anything like it.

Nor will they again, because some things only happen once which is why it’s so important to experience the present moment, all the time.

Someone took my picture during that performance.  Photo’s & recording devices were not allowed in the main chapel back then and  I personally prefer it that way, but, I am so grateful to have this photo to remind me that yoga means union, and there’s only one musician here.

 

Om Shanti.

©All rights reserved. Ida Cullen, 2016

Gratitude to Kripalu CenterJennifer Reis Shaun Laframboise for that weekend’s experience.  May you continue to be blessed by our lineage.

blue doodle 001It’s been a while since I’ve blogged anything, but, I have been writing….

a lot.

Last December I took a 4-session workshop on Writing Memoir, and in January I began to audit a local college course on Creative Non-Fiction.  It felt so good to have a pen in my hand again.  I’d forgotten how the kinesthetic experience of scribbling words on paper could be so immensely satisfying., especially with the right pen.  There is a certain pleasure from typing too, particularly the sound of the keys as they make contact.  But, writing more by hand over the last 4 months has reactivated older neural pathways and lit them up with new creative impulses.  Typing just doesn’t tap into the memories the way handwriting does.

In class we’ve been doing things like: free writing, writing from prompts and pictures and maps, and learning how to craft scenes, dialogue, and sensory information.  All the assignments are to be drawn from our personal life…..aka: non-fiction.   Although I had plenty of english and writing courses in school, this is the first course like this I’ve ever taken and just as I’d hoped it’s the genre that suits me most.  Putting my stories on paper, breathing some life into the characters that inhabit my life, and then sharing the stories has been immensely humbling and satisfying.  It feels more like therapy then entertainment.

Not sure yet how all this comes together, but I have faith that it will.  My goal, if I were to have one, would be to assemble all these stories into a hard copy book. But in the meantime it shouldn’t hurt to publish a tale or two here online on my website?   What do you think?   Who’s reading this?   That’s the amazing thing about the internet, you’re writing for who?

New Moon yesterday in Aries.  We’re in an action oriented cycle right now, but speed has nothing to do with it.  As Confucius says,

” It does not matter how slowly you go,  So long as you do not stop.”

 

 

Blogging Doodles journal entry

I got to watch a bridge being built. That isn’t something that happens around here very often. However, the day I signed the contract for my new home the old bridge that got me there was torn down. How’s that for a metaphor?!?!

It took a year to move in……….a year to go the long way around to get to what is “just over there”. I had to constantly travel in circles. Life’s like that sometimes.
After I finally did move in I was able to watch construction. (There were all kinds of delay’s and setbacks that prevented the new construction from moving ahead too quickly??)

I was fortunate (or quite unfortunate) enough to be in my home as they began to “drive in the pilings” that would provide support for the structure. The ground vibrated violently in resistance to the plunging and pummeling machinery. The sound was deafening and there were days when I thought my eardrums were truly going to implode or something! Naturally, I tried to leave when I could and schedule my time around this horrendous interruption in my ‘peace of mind’.

What became so interesting was how my life began to ‘open up’ after the bridge was complete and I could, once again, get to where I had to go more directly. It was as if the bridge became a metaphor for my life. Quite amazing, actually.
Today, another bridge is being repaired in my neighborhood. (I live where there’s a lot of water!) Once again, my habitual route to everywhere is interrupted with another detour. Methinks that Mars Retrograde has shown up as a very interesting metophor in my life. Thankfully, this bridge is a bit down the road and I don’t need to listen to the noise again. Oh well.

I’m leaving tomorrow for a 10 days of bliss up at Kripalu. I don’t think I’ll have any time to post, but you never know. Happy New Year.

the bridge across the street

Blogging journal entry My photos The Jersey Shore