The Road Less Traveled
This was a busy week for me so I didn’t have time to write something for class. To be honest I just wanted to go and listen so that’s what I did.
We started the class with deep breathing exercise (which helps me A LOT!) and then a visualization exercise. We were supposed to pick a flower and then tell how that flower represents you. I have a hard time with this sometimes. I imagined a pink rose that was just slightly open. A friend gave me two for my birthday one year. One was red to represent Janet and the pink one was supposed to represent me. We were paired up so the person I was paired with said the opening up represents the changes in my life, this class. So I said a rose has thorns. She said those represent the hard times in my life. She got it exactly.
I passed around the drawing that my friend did. Some women were really moved by it. My teacher said I want you to write about what these words mean to you…not now but someday you will be ready. And everyone said “you’re going to frame this aren’t you?” It’s not something I’ve shared with a lot of people but this group is special.
The teacher mentioned that I had to take a little break due to the death of my Mom. She said when I first started my writing was different than it is now. She said I write from the heart.
When I got home I realized I was afraid to write from my heart at first. I had journalled but had to keep my feelings hidden. I guess I was afraid to really go there. But I also know that I had to get to the point where there was joy in sharing the memories.
A woman in the class drove me home. We talked before class and she tells me how amazing I am. She used to go to the church I grew up in. She doesn’t have any siblings and both her parents are gone. She was very close to her Dad. Her Mom died when she was quite young. She actually lives around the corner from me and we are going to go for coffee. She was very understanding in knowing how busy I am.
It was such a wonderful break. There is always someone who shares a story that makes us laugh. The teacher read something of hers (which she doesn’t usually) and it made me cry because it reminded me of the last line a friend wrote as a condolence for Mom.
That is the wonderful thing about writing…it creates a connection between people.
The Road Less Traveled