Heather Lee on Embracing the Unknown

Unknowing seems to follow those who are paying attention.
~ from This Moment of Retreat

As writer, as mother, as person in charge of dessert for a big dinner party, there are plenty of times when I lack all sense of what to do or how. On a bad day, not knowing will push me to quit whatever it is I aim for, but on a good day–as Heather Lee illustrates in her guest post today–I can recognize the gift of reveling in the unknown. Look for Heather’s special offer for readers at the end of the post.

I Really Don’t Know–Listening in the Moonlight

Heather Lee

DSC_0438Just a caveat—I really don’t know how to write a guest blog post. Like Christi, I just “moonlight” as writer. I love this idea and often notice in conversations with others just how much delight and growth we experience when we try things that we don’t know how to do, when we get to remove all the labels and educational titles, and just be—dancing or writing or singing or playing in the sand. There is beauty, isn’t there, in the moonlight?

For me, the beauty is in moonlighting as a writer, because while the art of writing isn’t how I make my living, it’s definitely a part of making my life.

I have a “shaking my head” grin on my face because much of creativity starts and ends with unknowing doesn’t it? I really don’t know how to write songs. I’ve never taken a music theory class in my life, but somehow in the unknowing, I have written and recorded two cd’s (She Stands and Into the Light).

I don’t know how to have an online presence with this work I don’t know how to do, but somehow in the unknowing, I have set up a simple but functional website). I don’t know how to give a sermon, but somehow in the unknowing, I’ve delivered countless—here is one of my favorites where I sing too.

In fact, I really don’t know how to write. I’ve never taken a college level English class in my life—I’m an Accounting Professor for heaven’s sake, and a mother, and a wife. But see, in the unknowing, I write spiritual prayers and devotions for The Word in Season AND I just published a book.

WIPFSTOCK_TemplateThe book is called, This Moment of Retreat, and, for me, is a simply a point, a marker, on a journey of listening to my soul’s creative call in the midst of unknowing, of saying yes to being led without knowing the destination. The book is a gathering of retreat resources that encourage and teach practices of listening to the present moment. Listening to the healing guidance being sung in the moonlight, in darkness and light, in the here and now. Listening and being led by the voice of God, by the spirit or energy of light, by the creative call of the universe—by a higher power by whatever name you would like to name it—that is asking for you and taking you someplace unknown but taking you there knowing. Knowing that you are supposed to go–trusting.

Each of the seven chapters of my book offer resources for spiritual growth and creativity in the form of prose reflection, prayer and meditation, Scripture passages, poetry, earth metaphors, journaling questions, and an originally recorded song. More importantly, the pages offer encouragement through the sharing of my experience and my art. Readers are encouraged to come to the moment, retreat to this moment, without agenda, open and unknowing, and to delight in the listening and, ultimately, the singing of songs with themes like waiting and growth, acceptance and letting go, and mystery and trust–the Unknowing.

For me, the creative journey has been one without agenda and often a wandering around in the darkness and moonlight. It has been a practice in listening for the next right thing, one moment at a time.

This means when someone invites me to write a guest post, I say sure. I may not know what I’m doing, but I will follow.

When the moment asks me to write a song, I say sure. I don’t know why these words seem beautiful right now, but I trust.

And thank goodness I am just “moonlighting” and that the darkness–the unknowing that exists even while creativity shines–is not a burden but a grace. A permission to take a moment of retreat from the analysis of the past and the worry of the future to the right now to sit in the creative, beautiful mystery of the unfolding path and to listen in the moonlight.

Peace to you all.

Heather Lee uses creative writing and music, both the process and outcome, as a means of spiritual exploration, healing, expression, and discovery. She writes poetry, prose, prayer, and song that attempt to capture the intensity of human emotion and spirit in reflective, honest, and challenging ways. She lives in Wauwatosa, WI with her husband, children, and dogs. Visit her website for more information about her work and to order her book. Like her on Facebook.

For Readers: Heather is offering a guest blog special. Sign up for her mailing list (that she just figured out) and receive a daily thought for your moment during the month of February.

Revising Frank’s Story

IMG_0087I have a short story in my repertoire right now, which I call “Frank.” It’s been sent out several times and returned just as many. I like Frank. His story sticks with me. He’s a character who came out of the first novel I attempted, and though I didn’t like him much in the beginning (he was kind of a jerk, hard-headed and rude. Even scary), he softened up once I gave him his own story. I began to appreciate his flaws.

For a long time (and through several submissions), I thought his story was done. I was sure of it, figuring it just hadn’t hit the right editor’s eyes. On occasion I’d think, Okay, maybe tweak a word here or there just so it doesn’t grow stagnant. So I can send it out again right away. But the truth is, I was reluctant to look at it too deeply again.

Revisions are painful. Especially when it comes to a story I’ve worked on time and time (and time) again. Partly because I want the story to be done. Partly because I am  unsure of how to fix it. What’s worse, though, is letting a good story go simply because the work scares me.

It helps to read Jason Brown’s take on revisions:*

The long road from the first draft to the final draft is an epic journey through foreign lands with no Frodo to guide me. No, that’s not right. I can’t believe that line came out of my head. It did, though, and I just have to remember that more than 90 percent of what pops into my thoughts doesn’t belong on paper. So I try again: Revision is a month-long backpacking trip with a group of people I met in line at the DMV. No, no. Revision–it’s like driving cross-country in a Chevy Nova with my aunt and uncle and delinquent cousins from Buffalo. Everyone’s whining and my aunt yells, “What’s wrong with us?”

Brown is constantly revising through his whole essay on revision, and I love it. His humorous slant on the process pulls me out of what I sometimes see as the dire prospect of rewriting (oh, the agony). And, he offers several exercises at the end of his essay that are tailored to revision. Here’s one I intend to use:

When you reread your manuscript, start somewhere in the middle or near the end. Reread the story or chapter twice a day for six straight days, starting at a different point in the narrative each time. We all know the first paragraph and first page have to be great. Bring fresh scrutiny to all the subsequent paragraphs and pages.

Last time I opened Frank’s story, I got stuck on the first paragraph. The next time I open it, I’m going to start at the end.

Where do you begin when you revise?

IMG_0085* You can find Jason Brown’s essay in Naming the World (edited by Bret Anthony Johnston), an excellent resource for writers.

The Landscape of Memory

Poet's CompThe title for this post comes from Kim Addonizio’s and Dorianne Laux’s book, The Poet’s Companion. In full, the sentence in the book reads:

The need to go back, to recover in language what’s lost, often impels poets to explore that landscape of memory and early experiences.

To recover in language what’s lost.
To explore that landscape of memory.

These are some of the reasons I write, but they are also reasons why I spend one Saturday a month with the writers at Harwood Place. Many of the pieces they compose come in the form of flash nonfiction and (more recently) poetry, and almost all of their pieces build on a memory.

IMG_2123For the last several weeks, I’ve been compiling the second edition of Writers at the Table, a very organic process as I sift through typewritten pieces and handwritten pieces and wait for the postman to deliver. The joy is in watching the pages come together in limericks and poems and essays. Stories about the simple joys in life, views from the window, and the heartache of living in one place while your lifelong partner receives care in another.

Exploring the landscape of memory through universal themes like love, loyalty, and loss.

If you’re anywhere near the area on Saturday, January 31st, we’re hosting a reading. Seven writers will share their work at the podium in front of Harwood Place residents, family, and friends. We’ll serve lemonade and coffee and cookies, laughter, tears, and hugs. 8220 West Harwood Avenue, Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. 2pm. I can’t wait.

If you’d like more information about the anthology, Writers at the Table II, contact me. If you think you might go to the reading, leave a comment here. I’ll look for you and introduce you to the people who can really liven up a Saturday morning.