Community Blog
These posts were all written by someone in a Soul Writing group or workshop in ten minutes or less—really!
Not only that, what you read is virtually unedited from the original, timed writing. Several pieces often have the same title since groups write together on one prompt. Join us anytime to try it out for yourself. For now, happy reading.
Say my name
When I swore in to become a U.S. citizen, the judge asked: “Do you want to change your name? Many of your compatriots do. They become David, Charles, and Sam. Not Dung and Phuc and such.”
Say my name
Don't sing it, please. Yes, my parents named me after that Beatles song. But honestly, that's never meant much to me.
When I look in the mirror…
When I look in the mirror, I see lines / Frown lines / Laugh lines / Furrowed brow lines / 50 years of “life” lines / They say more than meets the eye
When I look in the mirror…
When I look in the mirror, I see my father. I see his hairline, his eyes, his nose, his chin. I see the dark shadows that are not there, only behind his eyes. I see secrets that he kept.
It’s a weird world
A basket of oranges sits before me and I wonder / What would it be like if the world was an orange?
Much to my surprise…
Much to my surprise, I cannot make a decision. Nor can I take anyone's good advice. Plenty of freedom, plenty of choices. And yet, here I sit.
What has always been here
This feels like a question. / Go to my heart. / The key is pretty obvious, it’s under the planter with the rosemary. / Let yourself in.
When I get really, really quiet …
Hold on, let me try it. / A rhyme is a steel hot monkey bar rung. / A heartbeat.
I want to tell you a story
Where I grew up, the trees had leaves and no needles. There were evergreen and didn’t turn gold or red. Their leaves dropped off although you never seemed to notice.
My greatest joy
My greatest joy is coming home again. Home isn't perfect. When I'm here, sometimes, the first things I see are what's undone.
Today’s the day
I noticed something new this week. (What a boring way to begin—okay, let’s be boring.) All experiences are one. Let me start again.
I pretended to…
I pretended to care. I put this face on a lot, with my family. And sometimes they put it on for me.
More than anything else …
More than anything else, I need space to be me. To explore. To sink into my feelings, my self, my depths. To know who I am at 43, vs. who I was at 23, or 29, or 33.
If I just kept going…
We climbed to the top of the bleachers. In our 60s, still agile as mountain goats, walking on the seats instead of the treads. Those seats, dusty, straw covered wooden planks.
Beside myself
Beside myself in the sidecar of my life / Sits many other “me’s” / There isn’t just one / And why they need to be along for the ride / Instead of inside / Is a curiosity
Beside myself
I never thought that a singing voice could move me, but it did. I am a purist at heart and I have argued and argued that music is all about sound and sound only. Adding words to it is like adding weight to a cart and asking the oxen to carry more load.
Help yourself
The tablecloth flaps in the wind, threatening to upset the settings that sit on top. Each place is marked with a smooth white plate, a golden piece of square fabric, and a heavy fork. There are no place cards because the guest list is fluid.
Around in circles
A child grabs an armpile of round lids, round cups, the yogurt container, the frisbee, and traces wildly. She is manifesting near perfection.
Around in circles
I love a labyrinth. I’m looking forward to seeing the ones at Grace Cathedral, perched at the top of a San Francisco hill. I often forget, though, that we have a few much closer by — a short neighborhood walk away.
I simply want to …
There are planets of friendships and worlds of dreams about turquoise tsunamis and smiling hound dogs that swim in peace like dolphins with wet noses, bobbing along like ducks and people who get along at a music festival.