As I explained in the previous section, in the first exercise, you will write a letter to a trusted friend who knows how to listen carefully to what you say. The trick is to give yourself plenty of room to explore all your thoughts and not worry about your spelling or punctuation. The way to do this is to know from the start that you are going to keep this letter in your journal, or yellow tablet, or what ever you write in. You are not going to mail it. Even you may never read what you have written. The important thing is to write it out clearly.
Spend fifteen minutes every day writing a letter to some one that you love and trust. (No, this is not an opportunity to answer the letters that you owe to other people. Nor is it a chance to blow off your frustrations. This is something different. Something more important. It is a letter to your very own long neglected heart.)
We are going to write this letter to a beloved, careful listening, supportive person, real or imagined. We are going to tell that person what is going on in your life right now. What you are feeling. Start out with Dear One, if no familiar face springs to mind. Ask for advice, as you would of a resourceful friend. Do not have any expectations, just enjoy having this person to listen to your problems. I suggest putting away this writing for the day at the end of fifteen minutes, but you may prefer to continue for a while longer.
The alternative assignment, just in case you don't connect with that one, is to write for fifteen minutes about some found object.
Here is the exercise:
I have heard that the sense of smell is one of our most rudimentary senses,
and that it connects to our more obscured thoughts. The design of the
exercise is to have a bunch of herbs and other aromatic things, perhaps a cup of herb tea would be nice? Sit with the selected object for a bit. Make notes on the thoughts that come to mind.
When I was working on this exercise, Bill brought me in some fennel, oregano, rosemary, nasturtium and gardenia from the yard. I thought I would choose the gardenia, since they grew around our house in Port Arthur, but no, I selected the nasturtium. (maybe this means that I should include things of color with the things of aroma?)
The smell of the nasturtium took me back to a particular long childhood afternoon that lingers for whatever reason. I was personally surprised at the pleasure I got from
just putting aside that time to be with me, and to go quietly into the experience without the nagging sense of: I really do need to get that Degree Plan in the Mail today. I really do need to dust. My brother wants me to enter some competition that has a deadline today. And ... etc ...
The writing exercise was very refreshing. It was good to permit myself to
be alone with my thoughts, and then to let the thoughts go. Good to take time to study the flower carefully and jot down my observations, the uncensored thoughts that
came to my mind. If you do them right, it is like the kind of visit home you
always wish you could have. When I did this exercise, I found myself attached to the notes I made enough to rearrange them into a poem.
Nasturtium Scrutiny
How we rush past the miracle of the nasturtium
in search of things not orange
A Nike bruises a leaf, flat and peltate
The air is filled with sweet pungence
We pause to consider
the trailing nasturtium
Nasturtium from the Middle English nasturcium,
a kind of cress, from Latin nasturtium :
perhaps n’sus, nose + tort’re, to twist
to twist the nose
And I am reminded of shady August corners
Saint Augustine grass
Caladium
water sprinklers
and time
time to decide
whether my nose is being twisted
whether I like:
that spice that mingles with that sweet smell perfumeries never mimic
the pale veiney underside of the petals
or the bright crinkled orange
orange so vibrant it dances
out
out beyond the rim of the petals
The top pair of petals are marked with maroon lines
lines that lead past orange feathering
past anthers frosted with sunshine pollen
down deep into a pale green infinity
where there is time
time to consider
Nasturtiums
