creativity Archives

Writing the way through – a wholehearted story

September 27, 2019

In this guest post, Sally Morgan shares her experience of writing the way through cycles and seasons to a wholehearted life.

This is the 22nd guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

Quiet Writing celebrates self-leadership in wholehearted living and writing, career and creativity. This community of voices, each of us telling our own story of what wholehearted living means, is a valuable and central part of this space. In this way, we can all feel connected on our various journeys and not feel so alone. Whilst there will always be unique differences, there are commonalities that we can all learn from and share to support each other.

I’m delighted to have Sally Morgan as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Sally and I met via Instagram and shared interests in creativity and writing. In this story, Sally shares how her writing practice has been a tool, process, support and safe place for stepping into wholehearted living. Read on!

Moving into writing

It’s a late-summer morning, still early, and I’m sitting on my patio writing. There’s a comforting weight to my journal, open on my lap, and my pen moves quickly across the page. I’m lost in the writing. This is how I start most days, with Morning Pages, writing at least three pages in longhand. It’s a process I’ve come to trust and value, a meditation of sorts.

It’s still cool on the patio this morning. There’s a hint of a breeze and a faint scent of the ocean. But the sky is a deep blue and the sun, when it filters through the trees, is already warm. I write it all down. The deep green of the cedars lit by early-morning sun. The rich aroma of my morning coffee. The tok-tok-tok of a raven watching me somewhere in the trees. This noticing grounds me, helps me move fully into the writing.

Reminders of cycles

It’s lush out in my backyard, still green, despite the lack of rain. The cedars and firs tower overhead, shading salal and sword ferns and an almost accidental patch of lawn. It’s a wild and unruly space, a perfect place for writing. As I write, I notice that the ferns are a deeper, duskier shade now; they’ve lost their springtime sheen and brightness. Behind them, the creamy blooms of the ocean spray bushes have dried to deep golden, dying away for another year. And now, all around me, I see descent. Dying off. The inevitability of fall. This reminder of cycles.

There was a time when I was less attuned to these subtle signs, when the weeks dropped away until suddenly the holidays were over and it was September. But my writing practice has given me a deeper sensing of the seasons. I watch for the first pale sword-fern stems poking up in spring, the clutched spirals slowly unfurling into bright green fronds. I notice as the fronds take on that darker, dustier hue as summer progresses, how the outer fronds brown and then die off into September. It’s one small way I’m more deeply attuned to the seasons and to the cyclical nature of our lives.

Being aware of seasons

As I write this, I am nearing the end of a short season of rest after a long, full season of houseguests and parties and important celebrations. I’ve become more aware of these seasons and of how I can best embrace each one. During the season of houseguests, I was able to throw myself fully into the fray, into visiting and day trips and shocking quantities of wine. I knew there would be time for rest when our company was gone. There would be time to slow down and step away, time again to drink water. When I am journalling, I am in tune with these cycles in my life, and I can give myself permission to fully embrace what is.

I’ve also come to understand that there are other, overlapping kinds of seasons. After three years of writing nearly non-stop and under deadline at work, I’m not writing much for myself at the moment. There was a time when I would have felt panicked by this, but not now. Now I recognize the bigger patterns, the pushing and then the need for rest. The immersion and the need for time away.

Writing as a safe place

I haven’t always written Morning Pages. I came first to a journalling practice more than twelve years ago, as a way to save myself. In June of that year, my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. In September, my then-husband announced he was leaving our marriage. I had to write. I was compelled to write, and in that time period, I wrote as if my life depended on it. I hadn’t read Julia Cameron at that point, and I suspect that The Artist’s Way was not the book I needed in that season. But I knew Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within and I followed the rules she laid out in the book: Keep your hand moving. Lose control. Go for the jugular. They were rules that served me well as my life spiralled out of control.

In that season I fell apart. I clung to my friends and to my three little boys like a woman drowning. My journals were filled with disbelief and grief and anger. But in those journals, I found a safe place to descend into despair, a place where I could immerse myself and fully experience my sadness. It was a painful and necessary period in my life. A descent and a dying.

Healing and inner wisdom

And then in late spring, I began to notice the first pale stems of healing. The slow unfurling of hope. The first tentative steps as I began putting myself back together. It was a slow process, and cyclical, one that has taken many years. In that spring, I began to see the learning I needed to take from my experience. I began to see the possibility on the other side of divorce, and to craft a new vision for myself and my little family. For the first time, I sensed freedom and felt hope. There was still much to face – the legal separation, my father’s impending death – but I was beginning to trust my strength and my resilience.

And I was beginning to trust my inner wisdom. By that point, I’d filled a number of journals, and somewhere along the way, a calm, loving voice had appeared in my writing, a voice far wiser than mine. You’re going to be okay, it told me. Your boys are going to be okay. As I wrote, I began listening for that voice, actually asking for guidance. What am I meant to be learning here? What do I need to remember as I move forward? Will I really be okay?

Writing the way through

Just about the time that I was getting back on my feet after the separation, my dad died. In many ways, this was a greater loss for me than my marriage and I expected that my journal would once again be my refuge. But I was shocked to find that I couldn’t write about my dad. I wrote about my concerns for my boys and for my mum, and about all sorts of other tangential things, but my sadness was too deep. Suddenly though, poems began flowing out of me. I’d never really written poetry before in my life, but I think that because I’d been writing so consistently, I was able to connect with an intuitive, deeply emotional part of myself in a period when there was no logical way to approach or express my grief. Again I cycled into descent, and again, I wrote my way out.

In the years since, I’ve fully committed to the practice of journalling, recognizing that it is the most effective way for me make meaning of my experience and – eventually – to grow from it. I’ve written through further heartbreak, through further challenges, and through the many transitions and seasons of my life. Journalling has also helped me to trust my writing voice enough to follow other creative urges, and I’ve continued to write poetry, as well as a couple of unpublished novels, a blog, and a self-published memoir.

Trusting in writing practice

The greatest gift of my journalling practice, though, came during a three-year period when I lost my speaking voice. During that time, I could only talk in a breathless, squeaky little whisper, making most of my daily interactions difficult if not impossible. In that frightening time, as I underwent scores of tests to figure out what was wrong with me, my journal was the place where, if I listened to my wisest self, I could write myself off the edge. It was also the place where I figured out the self-care practices and boundaries I needed in my life to prevent this from happening again. And, of course, it was the one place in my life where I could trust in my voice. Even though my speaking voice was unreliable, I could trust in my writing and in my writing practice.

Over the years, my faith in this practice has deepened to a place where beginning a new journal is a sacred act. I use the first few pages to record gentle reminders about what I need to be my healthiest self, things like stillness, solitude, and self-compassion. I also have a list of what matters most, because for me it’s easy to overcommit. Finally, I include quotes to guide me and reminders from the previous journal. In my current journal, I’ve written, I can trust in my knowing and my inner wisdom. I do not need to seek every answer outside myself.

Writing into a new season

My practice has also evolved. I no longer worry about keeping my pen moving. I write more slowly and thoughtfully, and I make time every day for gratitude and for that wise, loving voice that is always there if I listen for it. But I still write nearly every day, trusting that this practice is one of the great gifts in my life.

I’m heading into a new season now, one that will be both busy and marked by a significant transition, as my middle son embarks on a months-long overseas adventure. I know that I will have moments (maybe days) of sadness and fear and uncertainty. But I also know that I will find solace in my journal. And so, while the weather holds, I’ll find my way out to the patio, journal and coffee in hand. I’ll notice the air as it cools, listen for the first of the autumn birds, and watch for the other small markers of fall. I’ll write into the fall, through the descent into winter. I’ll write about my dark moments and the light, trusting by now that I can write my way through practically anything.

Key book companions along the way

The Light of the World: A Memoir – Elizabeth Alexander

The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron

When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times – Pema Chodron

The Blue Hour of the Day: Selected Poems – Lorna Crozier

Eat Pray Love – Elizabeth Gilbert

Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir – Natalie Goldberg

Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within – Natalie Goldberg

This is the Story of a Happy Marriage – Ann Patchett

Journal of a Solitude – May Sarton

Still Writing: The Pleasures and Perils of a Creative Life – Dani Shapiro

About Sally Morgan

Sally is a writer, teacher and mama. She’s on a journey to live a less driven and over-committed life, and to invite more contentment, grace and beauty into her everyday. She’s currently preoccupied with voice, purpose and slowing down.

In her forties, Sally spent a couple of years speed-dating her way through half the men in Victoria, BC. Her memoir, An Alphabet of Men: Dating My Way from Adam to Zak recounts that time in her life. Occasionally she posts to her blog, at www.trustingthejourney.ca. You can connect with Sally on Instagram

Photographs by Sally Morgan, used with permission and thanks.

Keep in touch

Quiet Writing is on Facebook Instagram and Twitter so keep in touch and interact with the growing Quiet Writing community. Look forward to connecting with you and inspiring your wholehearted story!

1 Comments

blogging writing

Writing my first blog post – my recollections

June 20, 2019

Do you remember the feeling you had writing your first blog post? I do. It’s such a strong memory still even though it is now just over nine years since I first pushed ‘publish’ on WordPress. If you are thinking of starting a blog, you might wonder how it feels to put out that first post.

When I went to Kerstin Pilz’s writing and yoga retreat in Hoi An, Vietnam last September, we worked on a writing prompt on ‘firsts’. We wrote a list of firsts and then chose one to write about. I chose ‘My first blog post’. As often happens with writing of this type, I stepped straight back into that time as if I was there. All the feelings and memories flooded back as if I was in the moment.

So here is my piece from that session. I’d love to hear what it brings up for you! And if you’d like help with your blog or other writing, see below too for ways I can help you.

My first blog post

It had been a long time coming, setting the framework for placing my voice into the world. Danielle LaPorte calls it her “digital temple“. That captures the sacred creative feeling that the word “blog” misses. It’s a space, digital and precious, all at once. I adorn it, I shape it, I frame it. I create the scaffold, the name, the brand.

I call my first blog ‘Transcending’ because that’s what brought me here. The turiyamani moments from my yoga teacher coming forward to crystallise in real life. The name he gave me meaning “transcendental jewel“. I’m learning to sparkle like a jewel, transcending from the deepest grief. I’ve cried miles through the national park as I’ve driven alone time after time. I’ve found all the drafts of every poem I’ve ever written over more than thirty years and put them into draft order, alphabetical order. Structuring my creativity as a way of finding some sort of order to make a new life in the wake of tragedy.

I’ve learnt how to make a website, a blog, create a cathedral for my feelings and thoughts, a sacred container I can hold and use as a way to share emotions and writing. I’m not a person who is used to this. I write behind closed doors. I still find the idea of a writer something that I can’t entirely understand. Rarefied.

So I listen to others, follow their path, learn how to be vulnerable like them online in the wide open world. I see that them going first helps me to see what is possible. Ink on My Fingers is one blog title. Attracted to it, I learn how to also be more daring with my ink reaching the outside world.

I’m ready. That day feels like a threshold, stepping into something so wide open My voice, suddenly reaching out beyond the room, beyond the page, beyond paper and pen to I don’t know where.

I announce myself like a bride, carrying myself through the door of my creativity with some kind of virginal white all around me. It’s all about what I intend to do, what I stand for, how I am writing to transcend, living transcending and I feel like I’m howling into the wind.

All those words crafted slowly and with such care hurled into space, published with the press of a moment. And I’m howling like a wolf, loud and quiet all at the same time, wondering what I’ve done. It’s all intent. All vulnerable. But I know it’s the right thing to do.

I sit and wait for a response as if someone reading might save me. Hands folded as if in prayer, intent on arriving into the next phase of my life, transcending through writing this first blog post, this first initiation into the sacred temple of my creative life.

There’s a morning-after feeling, all that pent up thought out there. I could take it back but I don’t want to. It’s somehow delicious, like a coming together, and I follow the tracks of arriving there into the distance looking out.

Thought pieces

You might like to read my first blog post and another early one where I write about feeling like I’m howling into the wind!

My first blog post – published 2 May 2010

The value of howling like the wind – published 23 May 2010

They are from my first blog Transcending which I have kept intact inside Quiet Writing for now. I love seeing the progress over time. That’s what my early blogging felt like to me – you might relate!

Love to hear what blogging felt like to you when you started or what it feels like to you now. Or what you’d like to achieve by starting a blog.

Support for blogging, writing and creativity

And if you’d like some creative support with blogging and writing, I’m here to help. Pop over to my Work With Me page. A free 30-minute Discovery Call is often a great place to start. You can book a call here. I have worked with many clients around blogging, writing and other creative endeavours and I’d love to help you with your vision and the practical steps to achieve it.

Creativity and writing can be lonely so you could also join in the Sacred Creative Collective focused on creativity, writing, blogging and community support.

So sign up to Quiet Writing to keep in touch and you will also receive your free Reading Wisdom Guide for inspiration. Keep in touch via social media too. More on this below.

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

You might also enjoy my free ‘Reading Wisdom Guide for Creatives, Coaches and Writers‘ with a summary of 45 wholehearted books to inspire your own journey. Just pop your email address in the box below.

You will receive access to the Wholehearted Library which includes the Reading Wisdom Guide and so much more! Plus you’ll receive monthly Beach Notes with updates and inspiring resources from Quiet Writing. This includes writing, personality type, coaching, creativity, tarot, productivity and ways to express your unique voice in the world.

inspiration & influence wholehearted stories

Learning to live on the slow path and love the little things that light me up

June 10, 2019

This guest post from Kamsin Kaneko looks at learning to live on the slow path and shifting focus to creativity and the little things in shaping a wholehearted life.

This is the 19th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I’m delighted to have Kamsin Kaneko as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Kamsin and I met via Instagram and shared interests in creativity, writing and gentle business. In this story, Kamsin shares how her focus has shifted to living in a slower, more focused, creative and wholehearted way in a different cultural environment. Read on!

Living life in the ordinary everyday moments

“Let’s eat out on the balcony,” my husband suggests. We are in the wine section of our local supermarket. It is a warm Sunday afternoon, and we’ve come to buy ingredients to cook dinner as a family.

“Sure. Sounds like a good idea,” I reply. One reason we bought our apartment was the spacious balcony. But we rarely sit out there to eat or use it for anything other than hanging washing out to dry.

This small act of cooking together and eating at home is one of the many small lifestyle changes we’ve been making. We’ve always wanted to do things like this, especially since we have a little boy who just turned five. But we haven’t always made the space in our lives.

We had got into the habit of going to the local sushi place on Sunday evening, which isn’t nearly as glamorous as it sounds in the context of urban Japan. You can wait 45+ minutes to be seated, it’s a popular family choice at the weekend. It’s cheap and easy, even if the quality of the food isn’t the best.

Nothing is better than a home cooked meal

We are home from the supermarket. There’s homemade pizza cooking in the oven, and the wine has been poured. We decide to move the dining table outside. As we’re doing so, our neighbour is taking in her washing. She laughs when she sees us.

The sun is starting to set over the trees and mountains behind our balcony and beyond; the light is perfect, and it is pleasantly warm. The inflatable paddling pool my boy was playing in earlier is still full of water. Alfresco dining by the pool, I quip.

A short while later and the food is on the table. My little boy closes his eyes, puts his hands together, and declares “Itadakimasu” (I gratefully receive this food), with energy and enthusiasm. My husband lifts his wine glass and smiles.

“I’m so happy,” he says.

Shifting focus

If I focus my attention on the thick, ugly pillars that support the balconies, I remember this is still in urban Japan. Power cables criss-cross the sky everywhere you look, and people crowd around us on every side. I grew up in the countryside, at times I miss the wide-open spaces which are so hard to come by in Japan.

So, I focus instead on the food, the table, my family. With my attention focused on the things I love, we are nowhere but right here and right now. Exactly where we want to be. We have created space in our day, and in our lives, to enjoy the little things which had felt so distant in our busy urban lives just a year or so earlier.

Until recently, I felt like I was always making compromises. I didn’t want sushi or a “family restaurant” every week. It meant being stuck in traffic, having to wait to be seated, and a noisy eating environment and unexciting food choices. It wasn’t lighting me up inside.

Our eating choices weren’t the only area we were making compromises. But food is so fundamental to a well-lived life as a family. So why had we been living like that? And how did we get from there to here?

Looking for the answers right here not over there

I grew up attending church and evangelical Christian groups. I no longer believe the fundamental doctrines that they taught me. But I experienced something of the divine, and I wanted more.

I can remember singing songs about loving God with all my heart, all my soul and all my mind. But I felt that there were parts of my heart that were locked away and I didn’t have the key. How could I love God with my whole heart if I didn’t know how to access what was inside?

Over the years, my understanding of faith crumbled and evolved. I am less concerned with trying to name or understand what those early spiritual experiences were. At the current stage of my life, I am more interested in learning to trust and believe in the divine within myself.

Gratitude and moving on

I remain grateful for the community and the guidance and the love of people in those groups. But I no longer believe that God can only be encountered through a specific understanding of Christianity.

Perhaps I thought that I would find God somewhere “over there” in the setting of religious groups and Sunday services. But God was never there. S/he was always here in the space between our intertwined lives. We had to learn to slow down before I could even see that.

I stayed a part of the church even though it had long since stopped meeting my spiritual or emotional needs. We stopped going about a year ago because my heart was longing for more space and more slow simple Sundays. And my husband wasn’t feeling the same connection to the church anymore.

Learning to listen to the longings of my own heart

In the last four years, I have been learning to listen more carefully to the whispers of my heart and act on what I hear. I’d got out of practice in doing that somehow. Through writing, journaling and mindfulness meditation, I started to find an answer to the question of how to access the locked places in my heart.

I was no longer going to give my time to anything which didn’t help my heart to keep expanding. I had wanted to spend more time with my husband and young son. I wanted the rhythm of Sunday as a day of rest.

The irony that by attending church, I wasn’t getting this wasn’t lost on me. But I thought because we lived in Japan, I would never have the slow Sundays I remembered from my childhood in England. Besides, times have changed, maybe no one lives like that anymore.

But we were living on autopilot rather than making conscious choices about how to spend our time. Now we often spend Sundays in our neighbourhood playing outside without any particular plans. We cook a homemade meal together and our little family has never been closer or happier.

Our slow and simple Sundays are one example of the ways that listening to what I want and need has led me into a more wholehearted life. Slowing down and believing that the longings of my heart can be achieved if I approach them with an open mind wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

Learning to believe in the possibility of a wholehearted life

The first step was learning to notice the places in my life where my behaviour did not align with the things I said I wanted. I had to learn to do that with self-compassion and let go of any judgment.

I was tied up in a long list of “shoulds” and “ought to’s” all of which caused my heart to be locked up tighter than ever before. But I started to believe that I had choices about how I spent my time. I could say no to what I didn’t want and yes to what I did.

I had to find processes to gently allow me to listen and believe I could act on what I heard. Journaling and meditation and carefully chosen books, podcasts, and safe spaces online are showing me how to do that.

I had spent too long allowing other voices to drown out the voice of my own heart. It takes time to learn to tune in and act on what you hear.

How writing and early motherhood changed everything

When I was in my early twenties, there were three things I wanted to achieve in my life. One was to travel and live abroad. I’ve lived in China, Japan, Bosnia, and then Japan again. When I married a Japanese man, Japan became my home.

The second was to become a mother. I’d given up on this idea for a long time, but it happened five years ago when I was thirty-eight. It wasn’t an easy process through miscarriage, medical error, and 2.5 years of trying to get pregnant. But my son is the most delightful little person on the planet.

The third was to be a writer. And it was that final goal which has proved to be the hardest. I took my first writing class as an undergraduate back in the mid-’90s and others on and off over the following twenty years. But it was only after my son was born that I began to unpick the places in my heart which had been standing in my way.

Motherhood in Japan was the key to unlocking my heart

As a new mother in Japan, I was stressed out and struggling so far from home. I felt like I was drowning in cultural norms and expectations, which I was never going to live up to. But I wasn’t about to settle for a slow descent into bitterness and resentment, which seemed to be where I was heading. I wanted to enjoy my little boy and life as a mother. But I needed help.

I began to meditate through the Headspace App. And when someone gave away their copy of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way I began to keep a journal. Something I hadn’t done consistently for years.

Through these two activities, I found the key to access the locked up places in my heart. I’d felt that wholehearted wasn’t something I would ever achieve all those years ago singing about loving God with all my heart. But over time, all the things which had been leaving me feeling overwhelmed, including unhealed trauma from childhood started to feel more manageable.

Writing is leading to radical transformation: that’s why it’s so hard

The more I wrote, the more I understood that I’d neglected the craft of being a writer and I had a lot to learn. Through online writing classes and working with tutors and writing coaches, I started to understand how to create a scene and a character.

I had a background in academic writing. But to tap into my neglected creativity, I had to bring my writing into the world of sensory detail. I had to connect the emotions and the details that ground a story and bring it alive to a reader.

And that is that process of getting out of my head and into the sensory details of everyday life that is allowing me to unlock my heart. In powerful writing, it is often the little details which bring the most magic to the page. The same is true in our everyday lives.

Writing through the dark to find the light

But I didn’t want to feel the painful things. I tried to go straight to being grateful and finding positive affirmations to help me overcome writers’ block and self-sabotaging habits. I didn’t want to feel the painful things that had been locked up inside of me. But the only way out was to go through.

Thank God the Universe provided me with gifted teachers in the process. This time last year I took an online writing course by Martha Beck; there were guest lectures from Elizabeth Gilbert, one of my favourite writers, and it was completely transformative. Hard work and painful but amazing.

The course comprised the most incredible set of lectures which blew everything I thought I knew out of the water. The writing exercises were designed to take you into the hell of your worst moments and keep writing until you brought everything out into the light.

As I wrote, I kept finding feelings of being unworthy, and crippling fears of never being good enough. A numbing fear that if I spoke my truth, I would be judged, criticised, and rejected. I was so good at avoiding those feelings I’d been unaware of how much they were driving self-sabotaging behaviours like procrastination and perfectionism.

I could only learn to be wholehearted by looking at those feelings of shaky self-worth in the eye. And writing through them to find the validation I need within myself. Perhaps I will never believe that I am good enough to be a “real writer.”

But I have learnt to trust the voice inside of me that says I need to write. And if all I ever achieve is to heal the fractured places in my own heart, it will be enough. I pray also that I can gift my readers a tiny bit of courage to continue on their own wholehearted journey.

Key book companions along the way

The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron

Big Magic – Elizabeth Gilbert

Martha Beck – Finding Your Way in a Wild New World

Loving What Is – Byron Katie

And the poetry of Mary Oliver

About Kamsin Kaneko

Kamsin Kaneko is a writer, mum, teacher, and traveller, not necessarily in that order. She writes about living a wholehearted life of depth and meaning. You can find her on Instagram most days capturing small moments of beauty in the urban sprawl of her home in Japan. Get your free gift: I Believe in the Magic of Everyday Moments. Kamsin Kaneko’s website The Slow Path can be found here.

Photographs #1, #2, #3 + bio image by Kamsin Kaneko, used with permission and thanks.

Photograph #4 of pen on page by Debby Hudson on Unsplash used with permission and thanks.

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

love, loss & longing wholehearted stories

Year of Magic, Year of Sadness – A Wholehearted Story

May 6, 2019

This guest post from Lisa Dunford looks at how her year of magic and change was also one of sadness, the two coming together to weave a wholehearted story.

I’m thrilled to have Lisa Dunford as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Lisa and I met via Instagram and share interests in creativity, coaching and travel. In this story, Lisa shares how her year of magic also incorporated times of immense sadness. How often do these two elements come together in life especially when we make major changes? So often. Lisa shares how magic and sadness have become key compasses on her journey. Read on!

Year of magic and sadness

The year 2016 was a magical one. I’d stepped back from writing travel guidebooks for Lonely Planet full-time to pursue a more personal growth-oriented path – both in my writing and in my life. It took a few years of stops and starts, but by 2016, I finally felt like things were beginning to flow. Along much of this incredible journey, the inspirational talks and writings of Martha Beck kept me company. I found the book Finding Your Way in A Wild New World particularly influential. I’d always been good at following my gut for big decisions. But Wild New World opened me to the idea of everyday connection and magic.

The more I read Martha’s books and essays, the more I wanted to learn. I took online workshops and listened to her lectures. I branched out to workshops and lessons taught by Martha Beck Institute (MBI)-trained life coaches. I hired a coach myself, and before I knew it, I’d become fast friends with a number of other MBI coaches.

Walking the walk

In spring, with just one month’s notice, I committed to walking the last 100km of the Camino de Santiago in Spain organized by three MBI coaches. Saying yes was a big deal. I’d fallen completely out of shape while living in two car-oriented, pancake-flat places. And I didn’t usually take on anything I might fail at. But a series of serendipities urged me on – Paulo Coelho’s book The Pilgrimage falling off the shelf as I considered, a friend asking me to edit an essay, that turned out to be… about her Camino trip. I embraced my willingness to fail, my willingness to be wrong about failing. Taking even the first step was a win. When I managed to walk every one of the 100 kilometres without getting in the support van, I knew I hadn’t done it alone.

It’s not like the trek was easy. Every morning I had my blister-covered toes sewn up, and I popped pain relievers like candy. But the Divine was there every step of the way: in the unusually unwavering support from my spouse, the unexpected inspiration from nature and faith, and the very practical advice and assistance that arrived from friends and co-walkers exactly when needed. I had accomplished what in my mind was impossible. It began to be hard to say what I couldn’t do.

Being led

“Ok, so if you could do anything, what would it be?” asked a life coach friend. That was easy – go to Africa, I answered. It had always seemed like too big of a dream: too much money, too much distance. I continued writing, I went to retreats, I followed my path. Four months later, out of the blue, another coach asked if I wanted to take her discounted place on a South African safari she’d already paid for, she couldn’t go. Um, let me think about that… YES.

I realized I wanted to learn more of the tools taught in the MBI training, go deeper into self-discovery, into self-belief. In September 2016 I began my own life coaching nine-month training. I’d gone in thinking I was doing it for myself. I planned to use the techniques to inform my life, to help with my writing. Much to my surprise, I really loved coaching. It felt as if I was following magic breadcrumbs to a life I loved.

Things happen

And then halfway through the training, my mom died – suddenly, at the very young, very healthy-seeming age of 71. She collapsed in my father’s arms and was dead three hours later. They’d just gotten back from mom’s first – her last – post-retirement, cross-country driving trip. I was home for an extended visit from where I lived abroad. She and I talked for a long time the night before she died. She went into the tiniest detail about her trip. We made lunch plans for the following week. The next day I left for California and my MBI life coach training meet and greet.

I walked onto the LA car rental lot and discovered they’d assigned me a white Ford Crown Victoria. I was not really feeling the old school, cop car vibe. When I asked to change, the rental guy was more chipper than most. “No problem, I get it,” he said. How would I like a cherry red Mustang convertible for the same price instead? Um, sure. At the time I didn’t think about how much the car looked like the little red Mazda convertible Mom used to drive.

Feeling connected

Some nice lot attendant came out of nowhere to help me as I struggled with the seats and the top. “No, no, no,” he said. I couldn’t possibly take the freeway at this time of day. He was insistent, I had to take the Pacific Coast Highway. “Ok, ok,” I said. I agreed and he sent me on my way with a “Have a Blessed Day.”

As I inched up the coast in traffic, the late afternoon sun sparkled off the ocean waves. I alternated between watching the dancing light show on the water to my right and the orange and blue and yellow wildflowers dotting the hillside to my left. Mom would have loved it. She was the big driver, not me. I was almost to San Luis Obispo when I got the call.

I couldn’t quite process the information. After the heart attack, Mom had been life-flighted to a nearby hospital. We’d figure it out, I told my dad. In the background, I heard the alarms and shouting that meant Mom was coding – again and again. I didn’t understand. I said I would come back right away, we’d take care of her. We patched my sister into the call. We were all together, in a way, when the doctor told dad the news. She’d never regained consciousness. I did the math. She’d been with me on the drive after all.

Going deeper

I’d meant to go deeper with life coach training, but I hadn’t really known what that meant. In the aftermath of Mom’s death, things I thought I’d understood suddenly became clear. I felt everything more deeply. I cried not only for the amazing and infuriating and incredible mother I’d lost but for everything, everyone’s pain. Though I’d never had children, I could better imagine the depth of my friend’s loss as she sent her son off to college (and for mom’s when I first went away). I could imagine the incalculable pain of someone’s miscarriage (of which mom had had three). But I also saw beauty and felt gratitude more deeply. When I returned to Africa the next year, I was more – and less – of myself.

Mom had been fierce and fun-loving, but she had also been an anxious person. After her death, I had the strong sense that she was immediately free of all that. And that if she could be free in one minute, I could be. She would want me to be. So I doubled down on the life coach training. We all have thoughts, habits and patterns that are no longer serving us. I became very aware of how important this work was – freeing myself, so I could help free others. Even if I only helped my sister or my nieces break the chain, it would all be worth it.

The next steps

I would love to say that within six months after mom died, I finished my life coach training and established a thriving writing-coaching-creating business. But that’s not always how things work. And that’s ok. I took time to grieve. I was committed to feeling my feelings, to allowing intense gratitude and sadness to sit side by side. We had other setbacks in my husband’s family, a hurricane that targeted our town in Texas. We had more loss in my mom’s family.

But there’s a big difference now. I have tools to use and a community to turn to. I’m much less hard on myself. I’m not panicked that I haven’t accomplished as much as I think I “should”. I had other things to do, other things to learn. I’m still writing, still using my coaching. I’ve continued to study tools and techniques to help others as a coach. I’ve begun to build my business and a website to reflect that. And I’m still doing my own inner work because it’s a process.

I’m immensely grateful for so much from the past few years – the lessons I’ve learned, the friends I’ve made, the experiences I’ve had. But mostly I’m grateful for an amazing mom, a woman who inspires me every day to dig deeper and do more, be more, help more.

Key book companions along the way

The Pilgrimage – Paulo Coelho

Walk in a Relaxed Manner: Life Lessons from the Camino – Joyce Rupp

Finding Your Way in a Wild New World: Reclaim Your True Nature to Create the Life You Want – Martha Beck

The Joy Diet – Martha Beck

Finding Your Own North Star: Claiming the Life You Were Meant to Live – Martha Beck

Born to Freak: A Salty Primer for Irrepressible Humans – Sarah Seidelmann

About Lisa Dunford

Lisa is a traveler, a writer, a creator and a life coach. Her house lives on a river east of Houston, Texas, her husband works in a desert west of Abu Dhabi, UAE. She alternates between the two. Before becoming a life coach, Lisa roamed the globe for 12 years as a travel writer. She’s lived in six countries and seven states. More than anything Lisa believes that so much more is possible in this life than we tend to think. Follow her travels @lisadtraveler and her attempts at learning to draw, learning to paint and learning to live @lisadlifeartist on Instagram.

Photographs and artwork by Lisa Dunford, used with permission and thanks.

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

family history inspiration & influence music & images

Joy in travel and seeing new landscapes – a photo essay

January 3, 2019

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.

Henry David Thoreau

Joy and travel align so beautifully! This post explores how the joy of travel and new landscapes helped refresh my senses and provide new perspectives.

Joy as my Word of the Year in 2018

Joy was my Word of the Year for 2018. I’m reflecting on my experience of JOY last year in a series of posts here as a way of rounding off the year and stepping into 2019.

I’ve realised that each quarter of the year delivered a new lesson and experience about finding joy:

alongside deep grief
and resilience in challenging times
in travel and being away from home (this post)
in creative work and my calling (to come soon)

I hope you find these reflections valuable for your own journeys with joy, grief, resilience, creativity, travel and wholehearted self-leadership. And I look forward to your thoughts and experiences too on these issues and feelings.

Finding joy in travel

It’s pretty well nearly always joyful to set off on an anticipated overseas trip. But this one was so long in coming, it felt extra joyful.

We were just about to go overseas when my mother was diagnosed with cancer and so of course, we cancelled that holiday. In all, we cancelled six holidays over 18 months as we dealt with the challenges of late 2016 into early 2018 and focused on supporting loved family members.

Finally in the second half of the year, we set off overseas for a trip to Europe and the UK. We travelled first to Singapore and that evening after arriving, we sat in our favourite hotel with a drink relaxing and I felt quiet tears of joy.

It meant things were okay and settled down now. It was a desperately needed change of scenery, an opportunity to relax and see new places, and fulfil a dream of going on a river cruise down the Rhine. We also planned to visit towns in Germany where my ancestors departed from to travel to Australia, to catch up with online friends I hadn’t met in person, and to connect again with family and friends overseas. It was the most joyful of times.

Joy and travel revisited

Just as absence makes the heart grow fonder, so the inability to travel made me yearn for new landscapes. Until I could travel again, I would follow other’s journeys with such wanderlust, eager to also embrace travel as we had planned for this time of our life. This whole experience helped me to take nothing for granted. After the challenges of the previous months, I immersed myself in every new place and experience so in the moment.

In Singapore, we love the orchids and visited the National Orchid Gardens and the Gardens by the Bay as well as the zoo. We indulged our senses in every way in the humidity of Singapore, surrounded by flowers and animals. It was so refreshing for my jaded sensibilities.

We then headed to Frankfurt as a base for exploring Germany and connecting with ancestral places. I caught up with my friend Kerstin Pilz of Write Your Journey. First connecting online, we had met face to face in my village in February in 2018, then found out we were both flying into Frankfurt, from Vietnam and Australia, within the same 24 hour period. What synchronicity! It was such a joy to connect and have lunch in the Römerberg Square in Kerstin’s home-town. Catching face to face with online friends was a special feature of this journey creating such treasured moments I cherish.

Joy, travel and family history

A key driving factor in our holiday planning was heading to see the places in Germany where my ancestors left from to travel to Australia. Much of my family is from England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, but my paternal grandmother’s grandparents came from Germany. So I was so very keen to see the places they lived in and where they once walked and lived.

We visited Würzburg, Wertheim and Eichel on the outskirts of Wertheim where they lived. I went to the church where my great, great, great grandfather Johann (Jakob) Leonhard Roos was baptised in 1826. My ancestors were vineyard workers in this region of Germany and then came to work on Henry John Lindeman’s vineyards in the Hunter Valley, north of Sydney. I could feel their ancestral presence everywhere in this region of Germany and felt so much at home.

The joy of river cruising

The central part of our trip was a river cruise from Amsterdam to Basel. We’d never been on a cruise of any kind and thought a river cruise would be the best way to commence our cruising experience.

It was sublime. From the moment we stepped on, we enjoyed every moment. A combination of the pleasures of onboard experiences with onshore excursions made for such a pleasurable journey. Once you are aboard, you unpack your bag and just kick back for the week and watch the world go by.

We had also never engaged with more organised travel with a structured itinerary and tour guides. Again, we enjoyed this as it meant we didn’t have to navigate and could learn from guides with local knowledge. You could choose to opt out of onshore excursions and stay on the boat often cruising to the next stop. This was an occasional introverted treat when all the interaction and input got too much.

Travelling by river means seeing so much you cannot see any other way. A highlight was the mid Rhine River lined with castles and vineyards, the Lorelei a central feature we snaked through. We sat atop the vessel as we wove our way through, seeing castle and after castle and wondering how such immense structures were able to be built.

We visited cities and towns along the length of the Rhine River, hearing of their history and traditions. A broad-brush approach perhaps but a fabulous way to get a sense of place and identify where we to return to with more time to explore. We especially loved Colmar, Strasbourg, Rüdesheim, Cologne and Koblenz. A visit to the underground Maginot Line in France near the German border was an incredible insight into the lengths taken to defend against the potential reoccurrence of conflict after World War I. Our hosts went to every length to make sure each port provided opportunities to taste the unique flavour and history of each place we visited.

And then to Vietnam

Shortly after we returned home, I headed off for a solo trip to Hoi An, Vietnam for a yoga and writing retreat with Kerstin Pilz. It was my first solo trip overseas at 57 which caused much mirth in our family. But it was truly great to set off alone for a week of writing and yoga in beautiful Hoi An, a place I’d long wanted to visit. Having my trusted friend Kerstin, a local Hoi An resident, leading and shaping the retreat meant I felt well looked after and knew my needs would be supported.

They were supported and so much more. I’ve written a full review of the retreat here. Following on from time away in Europe and the UK, it was all about seeing with fresh eyes in every respect. The week was pivotal in getting back to both yoga and writing practices after my time away. I made enduring friendships and my senses were refreshed and revitalised, bringing a deep joy after an at times challenging year.

Having stretched both my writing and yoga muscles and revitalised my senses in every way, the scene was set for the last quarter of the year and experiencing joy in my calling and new work in the world.

Photo by Nigel Rowles

Find Your Word process + tools

First though, some information on the process and tools that can help you. If you have never worked on a Word of the Year, it’s a powerful process. Susannah Conway has a fabulous free Word of the Year ecourse available each year that I often dive into. It works really well alongside the Unravel Your Year process and free workbook that Susannah also creates and generously shares each year. I’ve been working through both processes to review my year and plan for the next one since 2014.

I credit these practices with contributing to deep realisations about where I was stuck and needed to make change. For the first few years, I found I was writing the same goals each year and not achieving them. This was mostly about writing books and making space for creativity in my life. Each year was swallowed up by work and my creative goals kept getting lost.

In 2016, I started doing things differently. I began to make my transition. Now at the end of 2018, I am two years in to my change journey and life is very different. It’s much more in line with the dreams and visions I had way back in 2014!

Amy Palko also offers My Word Goddess Readings with suggestions for your word for the year linked to a Goddess of the Year. Also a practice I have invested in for a few years now, it provides valuable intuitive insights and suggestions for words that might help drive your year’s energy positively.

You might also enjoy:

Joy and resilience in challenging times

Joy and grief: the paradox and wisdom of finding joy alongside deep grief

Finding JOY in the everyday – reflections on my Word of the Year for 2018

Joy – 18 inspiring quotes on enjoying what you do and love

Writing retreat in Hoi An review + photo essay – seeing with fresh eyes

Grief and pain can be our most important teachers – a wholehearted story

Keep in touch + read the books that shaped my story

You might also find inspiration in my free 94-page ebook on the ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’ – all about wholehearted self-leadership, reading as creative influence and books to inspire your own journey. Just pop your email address in the box below.

You will receive the ebook straight away! Plus you’ll receive monthly Beach Notes with updates and inspiring resources from Quiet Writing. This includes writing, personality type, coaching, creativity, tarot, productivity and ways to express your unique voice in the world.

Quiet Writing is on Facebook and Instagram – keep in touch and interact with the growing Quiet Writing community. Look forward to connecting with you and inspiring your wholehearted story!

creativity wholehearted stories

Maps to Self: my Wholehearted Story

November 7, 2018

This guest post from Sylvia Barnowski explores how our maps to self can create the deepest of wholehearted journeys.

Sylvia Barnowski

This is the 13th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I am honoured to have my friend Sylvia Barnowski as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Sylvia shares how experiences and influences in her life have led her to the concept of ‘maps to self’ as a valuable guide. This is a practice she cultivates and shares with others through her creative work and spiritual practices. Sylvia also weaves creative work that has been part of her self-discovery process through this piece. Read Sylvia’s reflections on her journey of discovering her maps to self to guide your story!

Sylvia is hosting a giveaway on the New Moon (7 November Northern Hemisphere time) on Instagram. The lucky winner will receive a 2019 Moon Mandala wall calendar. More details below at the bottom of the post.

The longer I live the more my story changes. Maybe because the story has so many layers, or maybe because everything looks different in hindsight. There was a time in my life that I thought I had found the answers to the deepest questions only to realise that even the best answers can change over time. So, the questions remained: who am I? what is life all about? why I am here? what is my purpose? how to live my life?

These questions never really leave me and as I move throughout the chapters of my life, they stay under my skin, settling comfortably in the chambers of my heart as they wait for the right moment to burst out onto the surface. As I move forward, all I am getting are the hints for the next step, my inner knowing is my compass and I realize that this is the way it always was, even when I thought I was stuck or lost. The answers and the maps were always within.

Secret destinations

Martin Buber wrote:

Every journey has a secret destination of which the traveler is unaware.

And with passing years his words resonate with me more and more. I don’t know my destination, and finally I see this as a part of the adventure not a curse. There was a time in my life that I was angry about this. I was jealous about other people’s straight paths, how they knew which direction to go, how they had their one thing that they were good at and were able to pour their energy and passion into it. They were able to create something, become someone, while I was always searching.

For years, I didn’t know who I was becoming. Even though I don’t like labels, I wished there was a way to describe me and what I will do “once I grow up”. I had too many interests and wasn’t willing to let go of most of them to choose only one. Unable to choose one way of living, I often felt fragmented and wanted to find a way to integrate the separated selves into a one neatly designed life. It was not until recently that I started to make peace with the way my life is turning out. Deep down, I still believe that one day things will make more sense, but I don’t fight with myself anymore, I’m learning to embrace who I am right now and trust the unfolding process. I’m learning to embrace my secret destination.

Expansion and change

I finished Fine Art school in Poland and worked as an artist and graphic designer at one of Krakow’s Cultural Centres. Even though I loved my work and the daily creative process, my soul wanted more. It was not enough for me to create; there was a part of me that needed to dive deeper. I applied to a Religious Studies program with the hope that learning about what each religion has to say about God will give me the answers not only to the question about the meaning of life but about God himself.

For the next five years I worked as an artist during the week and attended classes on weekends. I didn’t get the answers I was looking for, instead my mind opened to new concepts and I learned to see things in a new way. I learned about philosophy, psychology, sociology, mythology, cultural anthropology, and about all the religions of the world, starting with the primitive cultures and ending with the contemporary sects. I discovered the work of William James, Carl Gustav Jung, Joseph Campbell, Stanislav Grof, Mircea Eliade to name a few that made a huge impact on my understanding of myself and the world around me. I became fascinated with the mind, the unconscious, spiritual practices and experiences, I fell in love with the mystics, shamans and a few outcasts. I felt the expansion.

As Emerson pointed out

[t]he mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions

and that was exactly what happened to me during the time spent at the university. My mind stretched beyond what I thought was possible and I became deeply changed by this experience.

The next step to a new path

I never had a chance to find out what I would do when I finished my Master’s degree because as I was writing my Master’s thesis (about one of the outcasts), I met my husband. He was visiting Poland but he lived in Canada and I knew that the next step on my path was to move to the other side of the ocean with him. I packed two suitcases and took the three chapters of my master’s thesis with me and left Krakow to start the next chapter of my life in Calgary. I never finished my thesis realizing that the energy I would have to spend on writing it and going back to Poland would be better invested in my new life.

Even though it did seem like the fairy tale about the prince who arrived on a white horse and took me with him (and in many ways it still is), it did not mean that immigrating to a new country and starting my life over again at the age of thirty was a piece of cake. There are many lessons I learned over the last 15 years as an immigrant and then citizen of Canada; but two realizations stand out the most. I discovered my own resilience and I finally (just recently) recognized and acknowledged how lost I felt throughout all these years.

Looking for yourself in what you do

I often return to this poignant quote by Eckhart Tolle, because I see so much of myself in it. Tolle says:

[t]here’s nothing wrong with doing new things, pursuing activities, exploring new countries, meeting new people, acquiring knowledge and expertise, developing your physical or mental abilities, and creating whatever you’re called upon to create in this world. It is beautiful to create in this world, and there is always more that you can do. Now the question is, are you looking for yourself in what you do? Are you attempting to add more to who you think you are? Are you compulsively striving toward the next moment and the next and the next, hoping to find some sense of completion and fulfillment?

If I am honest with myself my answer is yes, I was looking for myself in pursuing all the achievements since my immigration. At the same time I felt I was following my inner compass every time I said “yes” to the opportunity for growth. Before I could figure out which direction I wanted to go in this new place, I had to learn English. As soon as I was able to write an academic essay in English, I applied to a Social Work program to kick off my Canadian education. At that time, I had already given birth to both of my children and when I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work my son was seven, my daughter five and I was almost 40 years old.

Learning and further expansion

Once I started the learning I couldn’t stop. Things and opportunities were lining up. As soon as I completed one thing, the next was waiting around the corner. I certified as an Embodied Awareness facilitator, became a Reiki Master-practitioner, trained in Expressive Arts Therapy, completed a Master’s Degree in Clinical Social Work, became a spiritual, life and energetic coach and shamanic practitioner. I’ve worked as a counselor, first at a shelter for abused women, then at a distress centre where I mostly worked with suicidal clients and people in crisis. I created a program for caregivers, and worked in hospitals with people with chronic and terminal illnesses in various outpatient clinics and in the emergency department where I still work today.

Finding time to create and trusting the path

Throughout all these years while concentrating on raising my children and achieving yet another goal, I still tried to find time to create. It was more like “stealing” time for something that was nourishing and making me feel alive. I often felt like I was living two parallel lives and even though they were feeding and complementing each other, one was always more visible than the other. I feel like I have arrived at the point, where I don’t want that separation anymore. The need for integration was always present but it is the first time in my life that the circumstances are allowing that integration to finally happen. It is a conscious striving to bring all the parts of who I am together.

I still don’t necessarily know where I am going. I still don’t see a clear path ahead of me but I learned to trust that the path will show up as I move forward. It always does. On the days that I forget, get frustrated or doubt I remind myself Joseph Campbell’s words:

If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.

I might not know exactly where the path will lead me but I found a few things that help me to stay on the right (for me) path. They became the practices that bring me back to myself: creative process, self-inquiry, and co-creating with life.

Creative process

Creative process is an integral part of my life. We are all creative beings even if we are unable to see and believe in it. Creating makes me feel alive, maybe because when I create “I” disappear. I do not create art; my work is about self-expression. My practice is intuitive. I am interested in the process of discovery, of finding out what will happen next on the paper or canvas. This is a process that requires trust, and it is so similar to the way I live my life now. In my work I often use self-portraits; it is not a sign of vanity but an intrinsic need to tell my own story and to witness who I am becoming.

Self-inquiry

Neale Donald Walsch wrote:

The deepest secret is that life is not a process of discovery, but a process of creation. You are not discovering yourself but creating yourself anew. Seek, therefore, not to find out who you are, seek to determine what you want to be.

As much as I like this particular quote, I believe that in life there is a need for both: the discovery and the creation. I want to understand myself and my motives, and I want to face my fears. This is why self-inquiry and working with the unconscious is so important for me. Sometimes the understanding happens on an intuitive level and there are no words needed to explain the shift but I found writing to be a powerful outlet for this inner work practice. I am a fan of Jung who said:

who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Looking inside might not always be easy but I found it is always a rewarding experience.

Co-creating with life

In our society, we establish goals and make plans to achieve them. We often push ourselves to complete the task without paying attention to our true needs. For many years this is how I operated, like everyone I have been conditioned to act that way. It seemed that “pushing” had its benefits, it helped me to achieve a lot. But ultimately pushing too hard for too long manifested as an autoimmune disease in my body and that way of being in the world was no longer a viable option for me.

For the past few years, I intentionally paid attention to life seasons and cycles and learned the way of ebbs and flows. I started following the moon and watched as my life became a dance of co-creation. There are many ways to create and the ultimate way I found is to co-create with life. I am still working on balancing these two approaches as both – the masculine and feminine ways of being in the world – are needed.

There are definitely more things that I learned over the past 45 years of my life but these three practices became a way of bringing me back on the right track. As an empath, social worker and humanitarian, I am much attuned to other people’s needs, but I am finally learning to listen to my own needs as well. Lately, Howard Thurman’s words serve as my guide:

Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

I’m working on it!

Giveaway!

Sylvia is hosting a giveaway on the New Moon (7 November Northern Hemisphere time) on Instagram. The lucky winner will receive a 2019 Moon Mandala wall calendar. This beautiful calendar was created by April Miller McMurtry from The Moon Is My Calendar and one of Sylvia’s mandalas is featured there. To participate, look for this picture on Sylvia’s Instagram fed and follow the instructions. Good Luck!

Important and inspiring books:

Creative Process

Art as Medicine – Shaun McNiff
Art is a Spiritual Path – Pat B. Allen
Art is a Way of Knowing – Pat B. Allen
Big Magic. Creative Living Beyond Fear – Elizabeth Gilbert
Maps to Ecstasy. A Healing Journey for the Untamed Spirit – Gabrielle Roth
The Art of Dreaming. Tools for Creative Dream Work – Jill Mellick
The Artist’s Way. A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity – Julia Cameron
The Courage to Create – Rollo May
The Creative Connection. Expressive Arts as Healing – Natalie Rogers
The Crossroads of Should and Must – Elle Luna
The Mandala Workbook. A Creative Guide for Self-Exploration, Balance, and Well-Being – Susanne F. Fincher
Trust the Process – Shaun McNiff
Wild Creative. Igniting Your Passion and Potential in Work, Home, and Life – Tami Lynn Kent

Writing

At a Journal Workshop. Writing Access the Power of the Unconscious and Evoke Creative Ability – Ira Progoff
Bird by Bird. Some Instructions on Writing and Life – Anne Lamott
Heal Yourself with Writing – Catherine Ann Jones
Life’s Companion. Journal Writing as a Spiritual Practice – Christina Baldwin
Pain and Possibility. Writing Your Way Through Personal Crisis – Gabriele Rico
Poem Medicine. The Healing Art of Poem-Making – John Fox
Freeing Your Life with Words – Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge
Saved by a Poem. The Transformative Power of Words – Kim Rosen
The New Diary. How to Use a Journal for Self-Guidance and Expanded Creativity – Tristine Rainer
The War of Art. Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles – Steven Pressfield
Writing as a Path to Awakening. A Year to Becoming an Excellent Writer and Living an Awakened Life – Albert Flynn DeSilver
Writing from the Body. For Writers, Artists, and Dreamers Who Long to Free Their Voice – John Lee
Writing the Natural Way – Gabriele Rico
Writing to Awaken. A Journey of Truth, Transformation and Self-Discovery – Mark Matousek
Your Life as Story. Discovering the “New Autobiography” and Writing Memoir as Literature – Tristine Rainer

Self-Inquiry & Beyond

A New Earth. Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose – Eckhart Tolle
Anam Cara. A Book of Celtic Wisdom – John O’Donohue
Betrayal, Trust, and Forgiveness. A Guide to Emotional Healing and Self-Renewal – Beth Hedva
Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself. How to Lose Your Mind and Create a New One – Joe Dispenza
Change Your Story, Change Your Life. Using Shamanic and Jungian Tools to Achieve Personal Transformation – Carl Greer
Embracing Our Selves. The Voice Dialogue Manual – Hal and Sidra Stone
Healing Our Deepest Wounds: The Holotropic Paradigm Shift – Stanislav Grof
How to Befriend Your Shadow. Welcoming Your Unloved Side – John Monbourquette
In Touch. How to Tune In to the Inner Guidance of Your Body and Trust Yourself – John J. Prendergast
Inner Work. Using Dreams and Active Imagination for Personal Growth – Robert A. Johnson
It Didn’t Start with You. How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and how to End the Cycle – Mark Wolynn
Jung and Shamanism in Dialogue – C. Michael Smith
Jung on Active Imagination – ed. Joan Chodorow
Jung’s Maps of the Soul – Murray Stein
Knowing Your Shadow. Becoming Intimate with All That You Are – Robert Augustus Masters (CD)
Living Your Unlived Life. Coping with Unrealized Dreams and Fulfilling Your Purpose in the Second Half of Life – Robert A. Johnson, Jerry M. Ruhl
Meeting the Shadow. The Hidden Power of the Dark Side of Human Nature – ed. Connie Zweig & Jeremiah Abrams
The New Science of Personal Transformation – Daniel J. Siegel
Mirrors of the Self. Archetypal Images That Shape Your Life – ed. Christine Downing
Radical Acceptance. Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha – Tara Brach
Shadow Dance. Liberating the Power and Creativity of Your Dark Side – David Richo
Spiritual Bypassing. When Spirituality Disconnects Us from What Really Matters – Robert Augustus Masters
The Highly Sensitive Person. How to Thrive when the World Overwhelms You – Elaine N. Aron
The Places that Scare You. A guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times – Pema Chodron
The Power of Focusing. A Practical Guide to Emotional Self-Healing – Ann Weiser Cornell
The Power of Now. A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment – Eckhart Tolle
The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion – Mircea Eliade
The Tao of Psychology. Synchronicity and the Self – Jen Shinoda Bolen
The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature – William James
Women Who Run with the Wolves. Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype – Clarissa Pinkola Estes

About Sylvia Barnowski

Sylvia Barnowski MSW, RSW is a mixed-media artist, a social worker trained in Expressive Arts Therapy, an embodied awareness facilitator, a life coach, and a shamanic practitioner. Sylvia currently works part time as a social worker in a busy hospital Emergency Department where she provides counselling, support and resources to patients and their families going through difficult times in their lives. When not at work Sylvia spends her time on creating, reading, and developing creative and personal growth classes and workshops. She lives in Cochrane, Alberta with her husband, two wonderful children and a cat named Silver. You can connect with Sylvia on Instagram or by visiting her website, Maps to Self.

Photographs and artwork by Sylvia Barnowski and used with permission and thanks.

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

You might also enjoy my free 94-page ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’ – all about wholehearted self-leadership, reading as creative influence and books to inspire your own journey. Just pop your email address in the box below.

Quiet Writing is on Facebook and Instagram – keep in touch and interact with the growing Quiet Writing community. Look forward to connecting with you and inspiring your wholehearted story!

2 Comments

Older

Newer

creativity

Moving into writing

Reminders of cycles

Being aware of seasons

Writing as a safe place

Healing and inner wisdom

Writing the way through

Trusting in writing practice

Writing into a new season

Key book companions along the way

About Sally Morgan

Read more Wholehearted Stories

Keep in touch

Share this:

Like this:

My first blog post

Thought pieces

Support for blogging, writing and creativity

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

Share this:

Like this:

Living life in the ordinary everyday moments

Nothing is better than a home cooked meal

Shifting focus

Looking for the answers right here not over there

Gratitude and moving on

Learning to listen to the longings of my own heart

Learning to believe in the possibility of a wholehearted life

How writing and early motherhood changed everything

Motherhood in Japan was the key to unlocking my heart

Writing is leading to radical transformation: that’s why it’s so hard

Writing through the dark to find the light

Key book companions along the way

About Kamsin Kaneko

Read more Wholehearted Stories

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

Share this:

Like this:

Year of magic and sadness

Walking the walk

Being led

Things happen

Feeling connected

Going deeper

The next steps

Key book companions along the way

About Lisa Dunford

Read more Wholehearted Stories

Keep in touch + free Reading Wisdom Guide

Share this:

Like this:

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.

Joy as my Word of the Year in 2018

Finding joy in travel

Joy and travel revisited

Joy, travel and family history

The joy of river cruising

And then to Vietnam

Find Your Word process + tools

You might also enjoy:

Keep in touch + read the books that shaped my story

Share this:

Like this:

Secret destinations

Expansion and change

The next step to a new path

Looking for yourself in what you do

Learning and further expansion

Finding time to create and trusting the path

Creative process

Self-inquiry

Co-creating with life

Giveaway!

Important and inspiring books:

About Sylvia Barnowski

Read more Wholehearted Stories

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

Share this:

Like this:

PRIVACY POLICY