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Writing as Therapy

 What's Your Story?

What's Your Personal Story?

Writing and Creativity

 

 
What's Your Story?
by Jackie Kosednar
 
The making of a soul is a lifetime process.
Your story is important.

Everyone has a story to tell. People need to tell their truth and share the knowledge they have and the perspectives they have developed. In this 21st century of rapid information, language and communication have advanced to the point where many people are now sharing information worldwide via the Internet almost instantly. Communication is now so fast that is estimated that information on the planet doubles every 18 months.

Not only do we all have a story, we all need to tell our story. It is a powerful, natural way to let go of emotional buttons and integrate our lives. Just telling your story can lessen the emotional load of a trying time. My younger daughters, ages 11 and 9, both keep diaries and write in them faithfully. This is a great age to encourage your children to begin their biography. But even if you are 75, it's not too late to begin.

As a spiritual teacher, I have taught many people personal growth tools and principles to help them heal their lives and actualize their potential. One of the most powerful techniques I know is journal writing. Writing down a record of your life and then reading the account you wrote days, weeks or years later is a powerful form of therapy you can do for yourself. How easy it would be to heal our inner children if we had written an account of their traumas as they were happening and kept this record to learn from later!

I started my first adult journal in a writing class 30 years ago. I was told there was a writer inside everyone. At the time, I didn't really believe that. Unfortunately, because of cleaning sprees and moves across country a couple of times, those old journals were lost. I never really valued them until I wrote my book, "One Miracle After Another."

It was 15 years ago, when my son's illness began, that my journal entries took on an entirely different flavor and intensity. I found myself writing down details in a way I hadn't done before. I was in the habit of writing down an ongoing dialogue of my feelings interspersed with questions I wanted answered from God. There were few actual details of my life and these entries I rarely read later. They didn't seem important enough to even hold onto. But when the roller coaster of having a child with cancer began, I changed inside. Writing down descriptions of the day and encounters with others became more important than what I was feeling. Something within compelled me to take detailed notes. It could have been the fear that my Toby might not live to grow up and I had to somehow capture him between the pages of my journal. It could also have been that what we were going through was not something that most people would ever go through.

Instilled with an outpouring of emotion, the new journal entries took on a life of their own. Three years later, when I decided to begin a book about Toby's experience with cancer, these journals proved invaluable. The skeleton of the book was in the daily entires of my journals; all I did was fill in the flesh as the book began to take form. Writing the book became a powerful tool for healing the trauma of my life and returning my sanity.

"One Miracle After Another" took 12 years to write from start to finish. When I first began the book, it seemed so important to finish. Knowing that I had experienced a cure for cancer with Toby made me push myself, force myself, even browbeat myself into finishing the book, though to no avail. I followed a pattern of intensive, short bursts of writing followed by an abrupt stop, when I would feel compelled to shelve the manuscript. Every few years, however, the energy of the book would bring it out of the closet and I would read it all over again. I would cry and integrate, cry and integrate all over again, and then write some more. It was a wonderful and cathartic healing.

The last three chapters of the book kept me hung up for years. I had stopped keeping a journal toward the end (the most important part) of the spiritual journey. There was no place to start the ending for I had no journal to work from, and1988 kept slipping farther and farther into the past. I wasn't sure if I could remember -- or even wanted to remember -- the end, even to save people dying of cancer. By this time, I had myself convinced that people wouldn't believe it anyway so sharing a cure for cancer didn't matter. Maybe the book was only for my healing and I didn't have to traumatize myself again by remembering. I was healed enough. If not for my editor, who encouraged me to finish it and told me how to break through the writer's block, it might still be in the closet.

The healing of your life is a funny thing. I can see now that completing the book and finishing the story was the biggest part of my healing. Completion is such a powerful thing. Although we all have a "never ending story," our chapters do need to be finished. If you are involved in a very heavy traumatic time in your life -- any time of big change -- do yourself a favor and write down all the details. Heavy trauma times are when our soul lessons are rapid, abundant and intense. Many lessons are missed until it is therapy time - time to make sense of it all. We see things in retrospect we could never see at the time.

The making of a soul is a lifetime process. Your story is important. Try journal writing to release pent-up feelings and to clarify your viewpoint. Don't forget to write down your perspectives and all the details of your life; it makes for more interesting reading later on. In addition, you just may have just the information that others need to hear. Living in the age of information, we are now able to share our stories easily and quickly with friends, family and even those we don't yet know.


Jackie Kosednar is a holistic health practitioner combining spiritual counseling, hypnotherapy and energy work. She is the publisher of Alaska Wellness magazine and the author of "One Miracle After Another." For more information, see www.healingtoby.com.

 

What's Your Personal Story?

Jackie Kosednar

 

Our stories reveal our belief systems and, thus, what is true for us.

 

Our personal stories are very important to us. Many people aren’t aware that they have a story, but we all tell stories in the course of our conversation. The problem is when we tell our stories in a negative, bitter or depressing way. 

Story telling is as old as mankind. Before humans could write, we told stories to amuse ourselves and preserve our history. We painted our stories on the walls of caves and rocks. Stories were passed down from tribe to parent to child. These stories were about our customs, history and religious beliefs; our personal and family history; and, our desires and dreams of the future. As we evolved, generation after generation, our stories became more complicated. Our thinking expanded; we developed more language. We began to interweave our stories into our conversations. 

We also developed the ability to write and edit our stories. This heritage causes everyone to have their own ‘life story’ imprinted into their brain. The imprint is like a timeline database that is always accumulating more data and sub stories, or changing the data according to the mood of the current story. In this chain reaction, our desire to tell (and have someone hear) our story becomes very important. 

Right Brain/Left Brain

Our right brain is feminine, abstract, emotional and creative.  It feels, thinks and communicates in symbols and is the seat of imagination. Our left brain is male, unemotional and likes order, logic and sequence. Through the dance of yin and yang, our two brains work together to express language and communication.

Stories hook our attention by causing left and right brain to engage at deeper levels. This dynamic—such as that revealed by a good movie (story)—holds us enthralled. It is not just the mating of right and left brain that makes us love stories. We resonate to stories in books, on TV or at movies because some part of the story is also ‘our’ story. 

The more negative our story, the more unhappy we feel and the more we are attracted to other negative stories. In the outer world, we begin to attract negative people and experiences. In the inner world, stress accumulates and interferes with our bodily processes. Stress begets stress and our drama hook gets bigger. Additional negative story material accumulates, which begets even more negativity. 

We tell the same “he done me wrong” story over and over again until everyone is always doing us wrong and it becomes our theme story.  This is one reason why people repeat the same key experiences in life—all because they keep telling the same story! Stories are powerful and become self-fulfilling prophecies. It feels good to tell our story and it feels especially good when others listen and resonate with it. This is how we get hooked on drama. 

The Power of Imagination 

It has been demonstrated countless times that the mind is a very powerful instrument. To visualize something repeatedly is to bring it into being in some way, shape or form. Coming through the right brain and deeper mind, universal creative energy is always operating on our thoughts and imaginings.  Thus, it is extremely important to watch what we think and to make our stories positive. Why?

Our imagination doesn’t know the difference between reality and fantasy. If it feels something, in actuality or imagination, it believes it real to the degree that the left brain says it’s true. When unchecked or unbalanced, imagination believes everything is real no matter how fanciful because, after all, creation is its purpose. This is why it is wise to challenge your stories. Are they true? How do you know they are true? Is the evidence real and present, or did you just believe it because someone else said it was true? We get smarter than our brain by challenging our stories, choosing our beliefs, and recognizing when our imagination is at play. 

Magical Thinking and Denial

We all use our imagination all the time. Most of us don’t realize it. Human denial, imagining something ‘is not’ there, is a coping device that allows us to postpone solving a problem until we can get to it. With unhealthy denial, we simply never get to it. 

Every lie is a product of the imagination. If you spend time with small children before their moral sense is developed, you know that their lies are amazingly creative.  If a child makes up a good lie (story), he or she will immediately believe it.  You can tell your son that cows can’t really jump over the moon and he will tell you that of course they can—he saw it on ‘Barney.’ If we tell ourselves the same lie-story a couple of times, the brain begins to believe it is true. That’s how we get in trouble: lying to ourselves and believing it. We have to work hard to make our stories true.  Even if it starts out true, imagination can slant data, exaggerate or minimize, until the real story is lost and all we believe is the more dramatic, twisted version.  

Humans are believers. We want to believe; we need to believe. Our brain operates out of our belief systems. Even our behavior comes out of our belief systems. What is interesting is that our stories reveal our belief systems and, thus, what is true for us. 

What’s the Underlying Message of Your Personal Story? 

Humans are so incredibly imaginative and creative. Because of this, our brain likes to change a story each time we tell it. Every time we view our history and tell a story about it, we alter it by putting a new perspective (more meaning) onto it. Over time, we even change the way we remember it. 

Our imagination will often deny, exaggerate or minimize different aspects of our ‘real’ story in order to present the message or meaning we want others to have. We can twist the story to fit our audience or mood. We can initiate the responses we want (like pity or support) from the listener by adding details or leaving them out. Three people viewing the same accident will all tell a different story. Siblings of a dysfunctional family often tell stories so dramatically different that you wonder if they really shared the same parents.

Meaning is the bridge between mind and spirit. All of our stories have deeper meaning. Meaning is everything to the brain. Meaning feeds the spirit. A key reason why we tell stories is to make sense of our lives and to gain wisdom of a spiritual quality. When we make sense of a negative experience, the brain can then let go of negative feelings associated with the memory and file the experience as wisdom. This is true for positive experiences as well!

We are always the ones to decide what something means. This means that we can consciously avoid negative meanings. If your brain says, “This happened because I’m stupid,” ask yourself: “Is there another way of looking at this?” Encourage your brain to reframe meaning in a more positive perspective. For example: “Oh well, I am getting smarter every time I make a mistake.” 

The stories we tell about ourselves and our lives and the meaning we create becomes our gospel. The parts we play in our negative stories (victim or martyr) become habitual. Clearly, we come into much more health and happiness by reframing our negative stories into positive ones. We don’t need to agree with someone’s negative story or dramatize our own in a negative way just to hook someone else’s attention. Whether our lives are healthy and happy or not very much depends on the stories we tell. 

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Jackie Kosednar is a hypnotherapist, Energy medicine practitioner, spiritual counselor, personal growth trainer, and the publisher of Alaska Wellness Magazine. She teaches Energy Medicine techniques in all of her workshops. Call 272-2469 for more information.

 

Writing and Creativity

 By Raven Wi

 

there I am—heart throbbing, lips trembling, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

As a writer, creativity is everything. When inspiration isn’t flowing for me, it’s like hitting my head on a rock. No matter how hard I hit the rock, all I’m going to get is a headache. I cannot force the rock to give. It’s almost depressing, especially when all I want to do is write. But once I surrender and let go, the creative juices begin. It’s an elixir to my veins, impassioning every part of my heart and mind. At that moment, nothing else matters; not food, not sleep, nor time. It’s like a lover calling me out of my castle on a moonlit night to dance barefoot in the dewy grass: there I am—heart throbbing, lips trembling, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

That’s what it feels like as the words tumble from my brain, down to my fingers and onto the keyboard. Time stands still. Just my thoughts, the words, the keyboard. It is a perfect union where ego falls away like an old, worn-out cloak that is no longer in style.

I’ve been on this creative/non-creative see-saw with my writing since I lived in my old trapper’s cabin in Ferry, Alaska . Except then, I didn’t have a computer—or lights, or running water. Just the Nenana River singing its ancient song and my dog for company as I wrote notes of my wilderness experiences by the light of kerosene lamps.

Today, I am much more fortunate to live in a modern house. I no longer have to melt snow for bathing, chop wood for the stove, or strain my eyes while writing in the near-darkness. As a result, I’ve penned eight books in the Inky the Raven series for children. I’ve also written two non-fiction books based on my Alaskan adventures, several poems and articles that have been published, and two other books based on theories or fact.

 

The first book of Inky was published in November of 2005. Inky is an Alaskan tale based on a crow that my mother rescued when she was a little girl. She told me stories about Inky, about how smart he was and, of course, his endless curiosity, which got him into all kinds of trouble. Because Inky is able to bridge the world of humans and ravens, his journeys are amazing. In following books, Inky learns gratitude and to respect the property of others. He makes friends with the family dog, who protects him from the cat, who would love to eat him. Once he grows up, Inky is set free, discovers his ‘ravenhood’ and learns about the Secret Tree where the ravens go to roost at night. He befriends a sled dog team and becomes a hero by saving the team’s musher when they are lost in a snowstorm. He later falls in love and has his own little Inkys. In the last book, he becomes Inky the Wise and tells the stories of all the raven myths. Each book is a little longer than the last, and his audience matures as he matures. (The second book in the Inky series will be available sometime in October 2006.)

 

Because I didn’t want to wait for Inky’s release by going through a regular publishing house, I opted to self-publish with a local business. I had heard about Publishing Consultants in Anchorage and decided to give them a try. They were wonderful, but expensive. As a compromise, I chose a subsidy contract with them, which means they paid for half of Inky’s printing and I paid the other half. The way they put things together and worked with me—down to the very last detail, including cover design, page layout and excellent binding—made it worth every penny I spent.

What do I want to accomplish through my writing? Many things! Primarily, I want to inspire others with my words, give readers something to think about, bring a smile to their eyes and uplift their hearts for just a moment. Mostly, if I have helped or touched just one person, I’ve done what I came to do during my lifetime.

 

Book Excerpt

…from Inky The Raven: an Alaska Tale based on a True Story

by Raven Wi

… All of a sudden, strange noises were coming from the forest and Inky became very frightened when his parents flew away cawing in alarm. Something was coming toward Inky and he tried to hop away…

 

“There, there, little raven. Do not be afraid, for I will take care of you.”

Inky had never heard such a sound in his life. He blinked and looked up to see where the sound was coming from. He was startled to see two huge eyes looking down at him—and the sound was coming out of a BIG round beak!

 

Although Inky was scared, the sound from the strange thing was soothing. “Little raven, you will be fine. First, you must learn to listen to me so you will be safe.”

 

 

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Raven Wihas lived in Alaska since 1989. She is married to the love of her life, has one son and a granddaughter. E-mail: raven@pobox.mtaonline.net or visit www.ravenscreations.net to purchase a book.