A poet and therapist helps readers access the healing power of writing in this inspiring guide to creative self-reflection. In Writing for Your Life, Deena Metzger gives readers the tools to experience the wonder of self-knowledge and the joy of creation, while healing what is fragmented, injured, or suppressed within us. In this resource for writers and nonwriters alike, Metzger helps us explore ourselves and our creativity through journals, autobiography, stories, fairy tales, dreams, and myths. She offers stories and suggests numerous exercises to show readers how writing shapes and informs our lives, and how our "silence" hinders us.
Poet, novelist, essayist, playwright and storyteller is an Earth activist with over 20 published books and a multitude of essays, articles, poems, and stories. She has tried to be faithful to the calling of healer and medicine woman and has taught and counseled for over fifty years.
She has published more than 20 books including The Story That Must Not Be Told, novels, La Vieja: A Journal of Fire, A Rain of Night Birds, La Negra y Blanca, winner Oakland PEN Josephine Miles Literary Award, non fiction, Entering the Ghost River: Meditations on the Theory and Practice of Healing and Tree: Essays and Pieces, and poetry, Ruin and Beauty, New and Selected Poems.
Her play, Dreams Against the State, received many different productions in a variety of venues. Writing For Your Life: A Guide and Companion to the Inner Worlds, her classic book on writing is still in print since 1992! As a healer she has introduced ReVisioning Medicine, 19 Ways (for a Viable Future for All Beings) Literature of Restoration and Healing Stories which creatively address life threatening diseases, spiritual and emotional crises, as well as community, political and environmental disintegration.
Deena lives at the end of the road at the edge of a wild park with Mountain Lion, Coyote, Raven, Owl and others as companions. There she holds Daré, the gathering of the community on behalf of healing.
-This book has some of the most creative and deepest writing prompts I've ever experienced. -Those who follow the writing exercises will derive both personal and professional insight. -This book can be used by writers of all levels.
Cons: -The author disses "genre" writing--particularly horror and romance--as lacking inner truth. Sure, there is genre writing that is purely commercial entertainment, but there are many exceptions (the work of Stephen King, Philip K. Dick, Audrey Niffenegger, Dodie Smith, China Mieville, Neil Gaiman and--yes!--Jane Austen). And there are many "literary" novels that I'd argue are heartless. -The author has a very particular slant (politically liberal agenda with slightly new-agey overtones) that did not jive with me, and may turn off some other readers. -The book is not evenly balanced in the kinds of advice it gives. When it says, "Discovering the Story of Your Life's Journey," it really means that narrow a topic. A newer writer will certainly need additional guidance in plotting, prewriting, research, and the like. I'd recommend for this purpose books on writing by Orson Scott Card and Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird.
I'm uncertain how this book came into my possession, but possess it, I do. Tucked within its pages, I found an old receipt and the faded ink tells me that it was bought at McKay Books in Nashville, in 2007. My first trip to Nashville wasn't until 2010, and I did go to McKay's, but not in 2007. In any case, I needed to read this book, this year.
After going through a traumatic health emergency and incurring great loss, I need to heal. And this book shares a process on how to do that through writing. I've written as a personal hobby my whole life (and I value reading equally) so I'm familiar with how writing can inform and heal a person, myself.
Because this book is written by a therapist/poet/healer, it asks us to delve into the depths of the soul. The answers come from there, those depths, the soul.
The exercises take you deep, and honestly, I did not engage in all of them because they required time and deep digging that I wasn't ready to do just yet. However, with the exercises I did participate in, I gained some freedom and quite a bit of insight. The exercises encouraged me to turn to my creativity, which has mostly been dormant in my daily life. These exercises awakened this dormant creativity within me so that it initially wobbled around on shaky legs as it got practice and engaged with more frequently, it eventually danced around, gliding gracefully sometimes or bouncing sharply to bass beats only it could hear.
For example, the exercise "Write 'Things I didn't know I loved'" coaxed from me the thought, "the freedom of walking around naked in a sun flooded apartment that was all mine." And that thought, about my apartment in NYC, that it was all mine, is what I was longing for on the drive to the city, to the ocean. What I felt extreme loss over, what brought tears to my eyes when I thought of it. My NYC apartment. The only space that has truly ever been all mine. Now it is no longer mine and not by my choice and so the loss arose and I felt it and engaged with it in order to slowly release one of the many losses I incurred last year.
The higher self is wise. When my past self saw this book and held onto it, it had a knowing that my future self would find strength, healing, and liberation through it.
Some exercises and quotes that have encourage me in my writing and in my life:
- With automatic writing, the task is to write faster than you can think. Allow the words to appear on the page at fandom, to flow haphazardly. When a familiar word comes into your mind, see if you can write down another one. Write so quickly and so randomly that finally you overcome reason, sense, grammar, form, and above all, meaning. p. 25
- When you think you have nothing to say, when your life feels dull and tedious, try writing: Things I didn't see today. p.30
- Write "Things I didn't know I loved." p. 30
- "Often we do not know who we are or who we can be until we are reduced to the essentials. Without this knowledge, we can never know our complete story. When we understand ourselves on this level, it's possible to address that ultimate and most important question: Now, what do I love?" Make a list of what you love, and then create a portrait of a person from these details. p. 72-73
- Writing "Things I love" can be a useful meditation, to be repeated frequently. p. 73
- Arrange or rearrange your work space and desk with carefully chosen books and images so that you have a view and places for contemplation, reading, and hard work. p. 82
- What does the writer in you need? What has he been longing for? This is the time to do what you have little time for in daily life--the hikes you've been planning, the music you've wanted to study, the letter you want to answer. You can arrange the day to accommodate several passions--meditation, studying a new language, yoga, wandering in the woods or on unfamiliar streets, planting bulbs, writing letters, exploring with a camera, making masks, drawing. In this way, you frame the writing time with other pursuits...Awake at dawn, watch the sun descend, follow the waxing and waning of the moon. Greet the stars. Whistle to the mockingbirds. Consult the I Ching, the runes, or Taro, read tea leaves, find the auguries in clouds. Light candles. Build a fire. Learn the language of birds, animals, and tress. Pray. Write and write and write. p. 82-83
- What is the story and meaning of your name? How has the story of your name affected you? Are you living out its story? p. 169
- If you had to locate yourself on a landscape at this moment, what would be the geographic equivalent of your state of mind? What story emerges from this location? p. 169
- "Here are some of the elements that you will find as you investigate the myth's basic structure: the call; setting out; becoming lost; encountering nature; purifying oneself; sacrifice; making an offering; encountering a stranger or an animal; posing a riddle or answering one; being tested; enduring an ordeal; crossing an impossible barrier; overcoming an enemy; descent into the underworld; finding what one is seeking; epiphany; transformation; blessing; bringing back something; return." Take each of the elements in turn. How has each one figures in your life? Over time, write a story regarding each one of them. Then bring the different parts together. All these elements, taken together, comprise a metamyth" the archetypal journey of transformation. Combining them, you will have structured your own myth, and you may also have laid the foundation for a larger work. p. 172
- Like those who went with us to Greece, you can find these states of descent and return--for each of us is familiar with them--within yourself, can see how you have lived the myth in your own life, and then write about it: I am abducted [to Hades]. I am separated [from the mother]. I am grieving [for the daughter]. I am in the dark. I am barren. I embrace death. I am fertile. I am reunited [with different parts of myself]. There is light. p. 178-79
- "Of course, not every writer looks at creativity as a spiritual discipline, and indeed, not every person or artist is interested in such a practice. But for those who are, writing becomes another kind of activity altogether, and its effect depends not upon the product--the finished piece--or on the consequences--accomplishment, recognition, remuneration--but upon the process with which the written word is pursued." p. 187
- "The approach can be both simple and careful. We try to come to the desk as to an altar. We take the phone off the hook. We may light a candle or bring in a flower, just as one readies the temple before prayer. The door is closed or the windows are opened. Each of these small activities focuses our awareness on what we are about to undertake. The moment of entrance into the sacred world is negotiated slowly. Each word is taken in as a holy object for which one is grateful. Its meanings are not apparent; it opens itself gradually, the lotus of many secrets, or burns with the sacred fire. Pursued in this manner, through the practiced willingness to see and then to believe what we see, the creative can bridge the gap between the inner and the public worlds, between daily life and the world of spirit. And if, then, our small heart opens--opens to others, to the natural world, to wonder and awe--then the vision, the work of art, the image, the poem may appear in that flash of light, that moment of kensho, or in the still, small voice of the heart of the universe itself coming to meet us." p. 188
- "About meditation it is said, when sitting, simply sit, simply breathe. Then, when writing, simply write, allow the word. After sitting one sometimes studies the teachings, just as after simply writing one may study the work that has been done. But in the beginning, open the door, write, and accept what comes." Meditate for a few minutes until you are calm. Write for the same length of time. Meditate again. Write again. Meditate again. Write again. Let the silence refresh you. allow the silence to enter the piece. Discover what can emerge from this emptiness. p. 192
- What questions do you pose to yourself? What questions would inform the work you are doing What questions follow from these? What intuitions do you have? What is driving you? What fascinates and obsesses you? What is your particular understanding? What is being revealed to you? What puzzles you? What questions might you ask of yourself and of your work? "And the question we have been asking again and again and must continue to ask:" What is it you have been given to say? p. 198-99
- "Perhaps you can't remember your dreams. Perhaps you haven't kept a dream journal. Well, then, this is a time to begin. Put a beautiful book by your bedside, a book that announces itself as the proper container for such material, and turn to it immediately upon awakening. There you can record your dreams, whatever you remember, even the fragments, the fleeting images, the faint scent of dream left on the night air." p. 222
- "We are always at the edge of our lives. Writing can be the safety net into which we leap when we are jumping off the cliff into the unknown. But there comes a time when we must become the daredevil and remove the net. This is the moment when we jump, not onto the page but into our own lives. Not only to write about it but to live it. In the beginning, to write it in order to live it, and then, perhaps, to live and then write it, or at some point not to write it at all so as to live it fully. Or to live it and to write it as one action, as one practice. To live it because ultimately our life, ephemeral though it is, is the only art piece that matters. And to live it is to claim it, no matter what it is. Not to fix it, not to alter it, not to make it something else or someone else's, simply again and again to explore it, to come to know it, to be trusted to enter into its secret recesses, and then to live it whole, wholeheartedly, from the heart. That's all there is, really." p. 248
-"Love is the very heart of beauty. Love had created this landscape. Love was manifested here in the earth and stone. Skill, technology, aesthetics, mind cannot achieve such radiance. The world is not a separate object but the living manifestation of a love so profound it requires form. Love and form are not distinct from each other but are different faces of the divine presence. I changed my meditative practice accordingly. After a period of stillness, I began to focus on the heart. No action taken, no word spoken, no writing initiated, no healing attempted without asking for my heart to open. Nothing that did not come out of love. Not an instant to be lived without attending to the heart. Nothing without the heart and nothing that did not serve the heart." p. 253
I love this book! Nearly every line is quotable about the power of story to expand our awareness and our lives, how our life is lived out as part of archetypal myths. She touches on all the important things that inspire us to write--creativity, growth, transformation, digging deep into our souls for the wisdom that is hidden. Read it for the first time, read it again. It will fill your soul.
"To have a spiritual practice is to risk that one will encounter something larger than oneself and have to wrestle with meaning that extends beyond the human... We change. We become people we never expected ourselves to be. Atheists all our lives, we may one day discover that we actually believe; this was my experience."
In many ways, Metzger's book is about understanding writing as a spiritual practice. One that opens us up not only to ourselves, not only to the world, but to God, the great msytery through which all story finds its necessary patterns.
Here the practice of writing is preserved as an authentic gift, and yet it leaves space for "the writer" to also apply universally. There's a sort of grace to be found in this connective space, one that appears to reach back into the formative space of her own childhood. As she writes,
"When she was three, she knew the magic of words; she knew that words could create magic, that they were magic.... (she knew they could) also be the bridge between one world and another."
The magic of words. If it were not true that all people are writers in one sense, no one could then grow into a writer in another sense. All throughout the book the process of writing is broken into two parts: the theoretical and the practical. Thus we begin with the why and then move into the what and the how.
"In their purest use, words not only describe reality and communicate ideas and feelings but also bring into being the hidden, invisible, or obscure. Words can leave us in the known and familiar or transport us to the unfamiliar, incomprehensible, unknown, even the unknowable. Words, therefore, are the primary route toward knowing both the particular worlds we inhabit and our unique and invididual selves."
Writing can also be said in Metzger's view to be revelatory. "I know now that the imagination is the domain of the inner world and that the creative (act) is the way to it... How and why have we lost access to this world that is intrinsically ours?
The world of public discourse- political, social, diplomatic, commercial- has so corrupted language that we are rightly more suspicious of the meaning of words than we are convinced of their veracity. Language has been turned on its head. Still, language contains the possiblity of revelation... When truthfulness is honored, describing the world and describing ourselves are the same act."
This revelatory sense of the writing process is the world that "can be contained within us" but which is also infinite. "Like any unexplored territory, it will, each time, turn out to be both strange and familiar. And we go into it, each time, as if we have never been there before and also as if we are coming home."
And that revelatory sense relates to what we construct (a self, and a concrete world in which we partcipate), to the quesitons we ask ("The first and foremost question a writer, public or intimate, must ask is, What must I say?", and ultimately what we become ("We are afraid we won't be able to change. We are most afraid that we will.... It is right that we are afraid. If we are fortunate, we will say something, it will be the truth, it will be eloquent, it will have power to it, we will listen, and we will change our lives.")
That changed life then brings us into the all important question about how all things exist in relationship. Metzger spends some time in the latter half of the book speaking to the challenges of the modern age, where this relationship has been compartmentalized and narrowed to a singular conception called "the real world," cutting us off from our relationship to the whole of reality. She talks about how "the rational mind can be the greatest enemy of creativity, despite its belief tshat it is the most important element within us... The overwhelming pressure from Western civilization is to disdain everything but the rational."
The way back into that essential relationship then is story, something that breathes through the two necessary capacities of storytelling: fairy tale and myth; "We begin with fairy tales, but, soon, as we preceed towards myth.... Fairy tale, like myth, takes us to the other realm and to the gods. Myth refers to the drama of the soul and is, therefore, enacted in the realm of the divine... Fairy tales can be teaching stories without being moral tales. They tell you what to protect yourself from and sometimes how to do it, but they do not tell you what to be. This means that myth ultimately describes the world as it is, without distinction, one dimension coexisting within the other... the essence of myth is to illuminate the relationships and interrelationships among the gods, individuals and society.... The gods of the mysteries asked that we live the myths for our own sakes. If we live the myth, they promise, we will gain our souls. To live the myth, to live the story, is to know the image as the prima materia of our lives. It is, at last, to live the transcendent reality incarnate, to be fully alive in all the worlds."
This relationship can reveal the very source of our seeking: "At the root of our lives is a question... After we know what we know, each one of us remains someone asking a particular set of questions, the one whose life is the means of addressing it."
The question digs underneath both to the motivating force of whats driving us and where we locate meaning. And this flies in the face of reason and rationality. "To go against sense, to go against reason, to deliberately deconstruct the world of grammar and thoughful orderliness is, in effect, to destroy the world as we know it and allow something new to emerge. Grammar is, above all, a system of thought and perception, the way the world is defined and primary relationships are precieved."
In this sense then, "we can never quite define or identify the territory of the sacred, for we live outside of it, although paradoxically, it is also ever present." The process of accepting the imagination as a real place. As she writes, "A life lived in the so called real world is only part of a life. Our spirit wants so much more that only the imagination can satisfy it."
And I love how she puts this; "Faith is rare and quesionable. Skepticism is essential. Doubt is the very core of spirituality... Yet too much skepticism or cynicism will destroy one's relaitonship to the invisible. Then the follower will suffer from denying the god."
This underscores the wrestling, a wrestling that begins with onesself. "Before we edit a piece of work, it is more important that we edit ourselves... what most often stands there is our judgment." A judgment that we then apply to the world and to God. Here in lies the truth of that relationship; "Beauty appears when something is completely and absolutely and openly itself... Divine beauty often apepars where one would not normally expect it... To recognize that we are gifted- that we have been given the gift of creativity- is to claim parts of ourselves too often denied. But, in order for us to be given to, to be gifted, we must be willing to receive."
We are then the meeting place of what we see and what we don't see, as is the world that we observe. And thus to recover that image we reach for story, and the patterns of story, both the story and the stories that we find with the story. All as a means of giving proper language both to what is (reality) and what it means (metaphor and simile).
"When we use simile we are describing one thing by comparing it to another. It is the safe route; reality is not shifted. Nothing happens when we say the bird's wings were blue as the sky. However, when we create a metaphor everything tilts; the bird made of sky... That is another matter. We have to wrestle witeh the meaning of such a description because it alters our understanding of reality."
Here in lies the paradox of the whole thing. "To write, we must know ourselves. But in writing, we make ourselves known." Perhaps more powerful where this becomes the means of making the world known, of bringing God into view. And yet there is also the difficult sense that the challenge of bringing something into view is that we don't like what we see. This is true for telling the stories of our lives, and the stories of the life around us. "The story of our life is the substance of it. And our story is also the cross we bear."
Here in lies one of the great freedoms of the writer: the editing process. Sacrificing certain details so that others might emerge. Playing with the dangers of omission (the great source of falsehood) while also learning to let go of the need to include every detail. Embracing the messiness and the ugliness and the beauty.
Ultimately, to tell a story is about what we see. She laments at one point that, "I forgot one of fhe most essential parts of myself. I forgot the part that could see in the dark, that could see the invisible. I didn't forget willingly. This facility was cut out of me... The task of some writers is to see very, very clearly in the day world, to remove the illusuions from that reality. The task of other writers is to see very, very clearly in the night world, to remove the veils from the invisible, the visionary, and the miraculous."
To see. But also to live "We are always at the edge of our lives. Writing can be the safetey net into which we leap when we are jumping off the cliff into the unknown. But there comes a time when we must become the daredevil and remove the net. This is the moment when we jump, not onto the page but into our own lives."
This is a writer's resource for a lifetime. Deena Metzler is, first of all, a great writer, and a therapist (a Jungian, I think) so her presentation of archetypal material and perspectives is important for those who have never heard of Campbell, or Jung, himself. The exercises are excellent. They are things for people who are serious about writing and about personal growth. The exercises are also often illustrated by works of her students. There is a downside to this book, and that's why I haven't given it 5 stars. My criticism has nothing to do with the author or the material, it is a serious shortcoming of the publisher and the editor of this book. There has no index of exercises, and the layout practically hides the exercises within the dense text. Also, I thought that the whole section on the nature of story and myth, which comes more or less in the center of he book, could have been a separate book, or perhaps an Appendix. Also, the book cover doesn't do justice to the quality of the book. This is a book that will stay out in my house. It will get a lot of use both personally, and in my classes.
I'd been stalled in an enormous writing block and bought this book along with several others in hopes of getting unstuck. Not only did Ms. Metzger's soothing prose help unstick me, I was stunned to find inside her book a great deal about story and myth, some of the wisest, most lucid, most beautiful exposition on the subjects I've read anywhere. The book's medicine worked. It helped me to feel comfortable and safe again navigating the daunting solitary path of the writer's life. For me, the weakest parts of the book were the excerpts from student writing and the odd digressive tangents on which female writing often wanders. However, the excerpts did serve to remind me that writing is accessible to everyone, that one should focus on the journey rather than any targeted ambitious result, and that when we sit quietly and get out of our own way, some truly authentic, beautiful words can emerge. This is a travelogue of the genuine writer's path, one to which I will refer frequently.
This book is partly a writing instruction book that relies on Deena Metzger's deep insight into human psychology and part self-therapy. Following her exercises is an incredible opportunity for any writer to "go deeper" on the themes and stories that are the most meaningful for us. While some of the later chapters didn't interest me as much, working through her writing prompts lead me to many marvelous and unsuspected insights and stories.
Deena was my mentor and neighbor for several years. I know most of the stories in this book from having been in her class in the 1980's Excellent for the writer's library, be she new or seasoned.
This book has survived the test of time. I still recommend it if people can access it. It's message is timeless, the exercises reflective, and the wisdom enduring. The publication of this book was long before narrative therapy was popular yet the chapter on story is the best I have read in three decades. I love the beginning exercise: "Imagine that your are at the end of your life. Without hesitating, without thinking, record the story you have lived in five sentences." The writing exercises Metzger proposes invite us to explore the many dimensions of our story. She accurately points out that the exploration of self and as a writer are inexplicably interwoven. So, if you are a writer, here's a great way of looking into your inner author. If you reason for reading this book is to deepen your self-understanding, you will not be disappointed.
Excellent insights for writers willing to journey to the depths and heights of the inner worlds to bring back treasures clothed in words. Deena illuminates those worlds and calls from within, as a guide and beckoning assurance, that although arduous, you can trust the deep process of writing and know that the journey is well worth it. I used this in my classrooms with aspiring young writers with beautiful results.
I was recently given a large stack of books about writing. They were given to me by a used bookstore owner who was told by the person that gave them to him, to give them to "someone special". As a writer, that person was me. They were all previously owned by the same person and this person underlined a lot and wrote little comments like "Yes!" and "Aha!" in the margins. When I first began reading these books, the heavy use of underlining was a bit irritating, but as I come to the end of the stack, I find my self reading something and wondering what the previous owner thought about what was written. Why did they underline this and not that? Why did this line merit a "Yes!" but that line got nothing? Was this person a writer? Or someone who wanted to write but instead of actually writing, just read books about writing? I wonder what other books this person had on their shelves and how, and who, gave these books away? Here is an underlined paragraph from this book: "I think of all of these writers as my teachers, as part of my lineage. This one has taught me about the light and this one about the dark. This one takes me to ecstasy, and that one teaches stillness and solitude. This one is street smart, shows me the ropes, while this one tracks bear, tills the land, and teaches me the names of birds." Aha!
I have purchased eight or nine copies of this book over the years to give to friends, knowing how hard it is to act on other people's reading suggestions. It is hard not to want to spend time with the author, walking with her thoughts. She feels like someone I'd be glad dropped by and stayed for dinner. She did stay in my thoughts and is there whenever I need a wise friend so to speak with. The writing exercise "Things I didn't know I loved" opened a portal for me and I stepped through. It was at once expiation and deep validation at a time I needed it. I suspect that every reader will find a different point of contact with Metzger. She has a lot to say about being alive all the way.
I read some of this book when I lived in Austin. I even did some writing exercises from this book and really liked the poems I ended up with. I don't remember why I lost interest in this book. I do know it sat on my shelf for a long, long time and at some point before I moved, I sold it or gave it away. I think that was a dumb move. I would like to have a copy of this book again.
This is a book not for reading but for working...one to read and reread and follow step by step, engaging in writing not only as a path to greater self-knowledge, but also to fit one's personal story into a grander mosaic. Deena Metzger is a trailblazer on the sacred Way of Story for healing, community building and peacemaking, and this is her masterful guidebook.
This book inspired me to polish and publish my memoir. It is an invaluable tool to awaken creativity and dig deep in your own "larger story" (archetypes, fairy tales, myths). The author ends with a chapter on "Writing as a Spiritual Practice", a promise of fill your days with meaning.
I went through a phase where I read a lot of books about storytelling and journaling, oral histories, etc. I remember this being one of the better books of that sort.
For years I have speculated on developing my own teachings of this art. The stories and lessons in these pages resonate deeply with my inspirations and curiosities.