Welcome to new subscribers to Writing in Company. I’m glad you are here! Each week I share a brief thought and a writing prompt. They are meant to be a jumping-off point for you to do some writing on your own about what matters. Use the prompts however you like—to journal, to draft thoughts for your own writing project, as meditation ideas, or for another creative endeavor. Grab your pen and paper, and enjoy.
This time of year I have to work to stay in my body, and not numb out completely. Left alone, I’d rather ignore grief’s long-armed nudges and lie still under a blanket with a fluffy movie and peanut butter ice cream.
Twenty-six years ago, I was lying still on 10 weeks of bed rest during a complicated pregnancy. By the last week of May, I’d been admitted to the hospital, and tilted backward, using the advanced medicine of the force of gravity to keep our babies in as long as possible.
It worked for a while. Until it didn’t.
There was a sudden rush into surgery and what came after, and at the end of it all—one of our babies came home, and one didn’t.
It was the first time my head and heart tried to reckon with my body betraying me. But not the last.
Almost ten years later, my first mammogram led to a diagnosis of breast cancer and multiple surgeries. I’m healthy now, but then all I could think was: my body has let me down again.
Reckoning with those big body traumas, and other smaller ones, has meant learning and relearning how to stay connected to—and grateful to—my body. She is resilient and strong. I’ve forgiven her….mostly. Writing helps.
The kind of expressive writing I do in my journal and share in my workshops helps me get out of my head where I otherwise spend a great deal of time ruminating. Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for ruminating. It’s sort of my bread and butter. But I’ve learned I can’t subsist on just that. I need to connect my head and my heart with my guts and my body—and writing helps do that.
Writing can be a physical act—more than just moving the hand that holds the pen along the page. When we write—even about difficult things—our heart rate slows down, our breath lengthens, and on a good day, something shifts in our bodies. When we invite our whole selves to be present on the page, it changes what gets written there, and can change us too.
Recently, I’ve jumped at any workshop on “embodied writing.” I’ve explored yoga and breathwork before writing, and learned to take more deep breaths daily—they instantly bring me back into myself. I’m also writing about old memories and new possibilities through compelling prompts about the body.
Here’s one prompt to share—a powerful poem about the head, heart, guts, and lungs from John Roedel. I’ve printed just an excerpt below. Trust me, you’ll want to read the whole poem at the link under the excerpt. You can also listen to Roedel read it aloud in the video below.
I wonder what it will tell you about your own head, heart, guts, lungs, and body?
an excerpt from The Anatomy of Peace (formerly titled "How to Live With My Body")
my brain and heart divorced a decade ago over who was to blame about how big of a mess I have become eventually, they couldn't be in the same room with each other now my head and heart share custody of me I stay with my brain during the week and my heart gets me on weekends they never speak to one another - instead, they give me the same note to pass to each other every week and their notes they send to one another always says the same thing: "This is all your fault"
Read the whole poem here: The Anatomy of Peace
And here’s the author reading it:
a writing prompt
Write a conversation or dialogue between yourself and a body part, or between two body parts.
What would your head and your heart say to you today?
Your gut? Your lungs? That nagging back or aching hip? Your scars?
Or start with this line: Last evening, my gut asked me….
Take a deep breath or two, and get your hand moving on the page.
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There should be little icons below where you can like, comment or share this post. Let me know what you think about the prompt, or come back and add some of what you write in the comments. Know someone who might enjoy this prompt or others? Please share!
Thank you for sharing your story. I relate to the feeling of seasons reminding me of long-ago experiences that brought about grief. For me, it was the furnace turning on in the fall that brought me back to a place of sadness.
And the poem is beautiful. It gives me a strong connection to the streaming show, Severance. Employees of a mysterious corporation go through a procedure every day that disconnects their work lives from their personal lives. Their memories of each place are severed, and they have no idea who they are on the outside (or inside). It was a fascinating exploration on this very theme of divorcing our brain from our heart and what happens when you try to reconnect.
Anyway, I love this prompt, and I’ll be writing to my body about why it’s slowing me down at such a young age when I have so much mental energy.
I have been working through my own issues with how my body has betrayed me & the timing of your post is serendipitous. Listening to John Roedel read that poem was incredibly powerful. Thank you for this thought-provoking prompt and post.