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A Process of Letting Go: Notes on Staying Alive

The following writing prompt was provided by April Joseph. 

“Under the rubble, under the graves, the ancient dead shake such angry fists”—Tracie Morris, “Dystopia: Vertical”

Begin in the morning: see if you can, as soon as you begin to stir awake, reach for your notebook and whatever you write with and notice what you notice. Read your body: How do you feel? What are your first sensations? Can you remember a dream? What did you see? What do you see now? What is on your mind? Simply freewrite for as long as you can.

After your first meal: freewrite and consider how your body feels after you’ve eaten. Notice any differences and similarities from the moment you woke to this point in your day.

Before you go to sleep: re-read your notes, observations from your morning and first meal. Cut up your notes—whatever that means to you. Place the cut ups in an offering bowl with the intention to let go of the day: your thoughts, dreams, joy, triggers, pain, whatever does not serve you and remain present.

Create an altar. Light a candle, burn some incense and watch the flame/smoke flicker for a moment. You may feel inspired to move: dance, stretch, lie down—close your eyes, feel your breath move through your whole body. Notice with each new breath the opportunity to let something, an ounce of the weight, go.

When you are ready, open your eyes: this is another opportunity to write. If you’d like, as you write, pull some of the fragments from the bowl and use them in your writing. Consider what you are letting go of and how this act can allow energy to be refreshed or transformed.

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A delicious review of Gesture Editrice, Heather Goodrich's new chapbook with #SadSpellPress

THE FILAMENTS OF HEATHER

THERE IS NO WORD FOR BEAUTY AND HORROR TOGETHER BUT THESE WORDS COULD BE THE DEFINITION 

Keep reading

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Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie at the PEN World Voices Festival, 5/10/15

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Submissions are Open

Gesture Press & Journal seeks written and visual art from new and established artists on the theme doubling.

The double can be an expansion or retraction of itself. It can be a mirror and what it reflects. What shows in the reflection: The horror of duality? The provocation of Castor and Pollux? The comfortable contradiction of Piscean fish swimming away from each other?

We seek the double says or withholds. We seek the catharsis and insight. We seek the site and the boundaries of the double; of what doubles; and of what can double.

Send us your work that engages the doubling/twinning/mirroring. Send us your psychodrama doubling, symmetry, separation, and configuration.

Submission deadline: November 1, 2015

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Selling books, coasters, and magic beans at #denversmallpressfest tomorrow from 10-3. Hope to see you there!

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Stop by and see us! We’ve got deals on books, letterpress coasters, micro chapbooks, and more gems. But mostly, we just want to see all your lovely faces.

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Somatic Lab #5: Yes, and.

When writing Strangers at the Event Horizon together, Matt and I needed a container for our collaboration (well, let’s be honest, I needed a container for the work).  We decided no topic, theme, or form was off the table—yeah, that’s a pretty voluminous container.  To give the text shape, we decided to let the structure answer the questions we struggled with: how do we write a text that honors our separate selves and holds the places of our exchange; how do we write a text that does not rely on call and response—reaction; how do we renegotiate beginnings, endings, starts, and stops—who “goes first”—who “has the last word”? Inspired by Gesture Press, we generated a structure that required a gesture—to read, one must turn, not just each page, but the whole book.  The shape of the infinity sign, embodied in the gesture of rotation, helped us craft the container for this work.  Thus, this book can be read starting in Matt’s section, reading the horizon line collaboration, and finishing by reading Kristen’s section in retrograde AND can be read starting in Kristen’s section, reading the horizon line collaboration, and finishing by reading Matt’s section in retrograde.  The compositional unit became the page; the text subverted sequence. Fortunately, we were working with Heather Goodrich, Sally Seck, Lindsay King-Miller, and Brenna Lee at Gesture Press or we would have been in big time trouble!  Matt and I had to use the participatory model (so many leadership and improv workshops) “Yes, AND” and the Gesture Editors had to sound back “Yes, AND” and somehow this whole project found its way into publication based on these two magnificent words!

Ok, enough about us.  Let’s dig into the lab!  

Yes, AND.

This exercise (and Strangers) is about permission and not permission (rape, taking, grasping, holding).  The economic climate in America is reinforcing a “desperation culture” (and vice versa).  One must say yes to every job offer (there will not be another), every new redistribution of the workload (if you won’t do it, we don’t need you) etc.  Loyalty, human potential, and opportunity create the space for personal and social progress; these are not valued in the American workforce.  In a desperation culture, it is being stripped of our ability, opportunity, right to say “NO” that makes saying “YES” so hard in writing and sharing ideas.  Permission is the space to be vulnerable; the lack of this space reduces permission, strips permission, decenters the relationship between self and other (and Other and other and Other and self)

We need a big healthy dose of “yes, and.”  This writing exercise can be done alone, with a partner, and with a group.  It requires all participants to listen and respond with “yes, and.”  The use of “however,” “but,” “on the contrary,” etc.  halts and stops the process (shrinks the space).  Decide where you are and when you are—that is your container.

First person writes down a sentence.  Second person reads sentence/listens, creates the coordinating conjunction yes, and continues to write down the next sentence.  Keep it passing; keep it going for as long as the group can sustain the yes, and.  Where does the story go?  What is its shape?  If it were a body, what would it look like?  If it were a city, how would it be planned?  How much space is surrendered?  Restored?  When is it time to turn the page?

We would love to hear the results and/or process of this experiment.  Feel free to share here!

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Somatic Lab #4: Seed Sound

Matt makes 8-Tracks Playlists; Matt makes many 8-Tracks Playlists; he listens to sound subverting narrative and his poetry follows.  In generating this lab, I combined the image of Matt leaning against our giant record player speakers, synching his breath to the vibration, and a yogic exercise in toning the chakras.

While consonant sounds shape the container of words, vowel sounds drive the breath through words.  Thus, each word is more than just a symbol or sign; it is also a gesture. In Lab #3, we used the body as a sounding board.  In this exercise, we will use the body as a generator.

Knowledge of the Chakras is not necessary for completing this exercise, however, it can be interesting to investigate further post-practice to contextualize what your body reveals to you.  Each one of these vowel seeds coordinates with a chakra system and can be used to tone or tune in to the energy in the body.

Begin sitting in a comfortable pose where the spine can be vertical and the sit bones planted (the tuning forks of the body).  Repeat several rounds of the following sequence: OH, OOO, AH, AYE, EEE, NGG, silence.  Feel the breath and sound travel from the lowest part of the belly (OH) through the hips (OOO), into the gut (AHH), the heart (AYE), the throat (EEE), the nasal (NGG—a buzzing), and out the crown of the head (silence).  Repeat anywhere between 10 and 108 times.

Generative

Free-write for 10 minutes.  Read your free-write out loud. (Option: record your reading and blast it through an amplifier).  Listen to the vowel sounds/ the seed sounds/ the breath in your free-write.  What are you drawn to and why?  Pick a section based on its breath/sound NOT on its content/form.  Play and explore the vowel sounds in your body and on the page.  Breath and pulse—the physicality of the moment—informs the capacity for emotion (likewise, emotion informs how we will breathe).  What raw emotions, feelings, thoughts emerge as you arrange and rearrange the words in the section.  What authentic feeling emerges and do you feel safe sharing it?  Arrange the words to compose the breath score for communicating that particular feeling (don’t worry about making “sense”).  Relax into the vibration of your sound, in this moment, in this space.

We would love to hear the results and/or process of this experiment.  Feel free to share here!

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Somatic Lab #3: Shim Sham Shame-Off

This exercise is an act in subverting gendered pronouns and exposing the stereotypes/expectations that induce S.H.A.M.E. moments [Should Have Already Mastered Everything moments.] 

 The Shim Sham Shimmy is considered tap dancing’s national anthem.  It was created in the 1920s by Leonard Reed and Willie Bryant to be performed by entire crowds of people (often at the end of the night).  The “shim” refers to the fact that often chorus boys would play chorus girls and chorus girls chorus boys and sometimes even boys dressed as girls dressed as boys, ala Victor Victoria; shims were she-hims.  Expectations and stereotypes were not erased, but rather suspended—hanging, swinging, pushing gender/class/race issues into the subtext, between the steps performed.

In American culture, S.H.A.M.E. moments are often driven by the expectations not just of others perceiving the self, but, also of the self performing for others. 

Generative

List and write your top 5 S.H.A.M.E. moments on a large sheet of paper.

Put on some shoes.  

Drop in some big band/swing kids music, or if you must Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” (it works embarrassingly well for this exercise).  Scuff, shuffle, scrape, scratch, stab, slide, rip the paper with your feet.  Dance all over it.  Dance till you are exhausted.  Till the paper is exhausted. 

Gather up the remaining shreds.  

Renegotiate the words/sounds/phrases/silences/gaps.  Score or choreograph to render the text. Write the rupture, seam, or puncture. What exists in the reach?  

Remediate the list. What remains?

We would love to hear the results and/or process of this experiment.  Feel free to share here!

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Somatic Lab #2: Carrying Capacity

"On a rock split into two by a lightning strike, a woman carries another woman on her back”

—An interpretation of the 8° Aquarius symbolic degree (sun) Janduz version.

When Matt and I were in the pre-writing stages of Strangers, we explored our birth charts and found the imagery written by Janduz in Les 360 degrés du Zodiaque poetic, inspiring, and ultimately, generative.  I created this lab based on a Thai-Yoga exercise I learned from Bobbie Ellis called “Riding the Wave of the Breath” and a writing prompt I have been refining called “Back Stories.”  What do we carry in/on/with our backs and how much are we capable of carrying?  When is surrender necessary? Holding?  What is built and what is released?  It can be done solo, but consider engaging and sharing with a partner—an extra set of eyes/hands/insight.  You will need writing tools, a blanket, and a quiet space.  Read through the prompt before starting so you can remain present in the practice.

Spread the blanket on the floor.  Partner II in this practice will serve to watch, observe, and reflect back to Partner I what is noticed at the level of breath and movement along the spine.  Partner I will engage in the practice by breathing in response to Partner II’s prompts.  The objective is to watch the wave of the breath travel from the lowest part of the spine up into the skull and notice places of freedom/movement and resistance/stickiness: the curve-shape-crest of this particular wave, this particular person, in this moment.

Part I

To begin, Partner I lies prone; Partner II kneels beside Partner I’s sacrum/hips (use a pillow if knees are sensitive or sit on bottom).  Partner II will read the prompts to Partner I—watch, listen, feel.    

1.     Partner II (place hand on the lowest part of the spine where hips and glutes meet): Breathe into my hand, send your breath to the lowest part of your belly, feeling the belly fill into the floor and the hips and low back widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension from the hips and glutes.  Complete three rounds of this breath.

2.     Partner II (place hand on the curve of the lower back just above the hips): Breathe into the warmth of my hand, send your breath into the low back, feeling the belly fill into the floor and the low back widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension from the lower back.  Complete three rounds of this breath.

3.     Partner II (place hand on the thoracic spine where the ribs end, just above the lower back): Breathe into the warmth of my hand, send your breath into the back of the ribs, feeling the belly fill into the floor and the ribs widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension from the ribs.  Complete three rounds of this breath.

4.     Partner II (place hand on the back of the heart, between the shoulder blades): Breathe into the warmth of my hand, send your breath into the back of the heart, feeling the chest fill into the floor and the shoulder blades widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension in the upper back.  Complete three rounds of this breath.

5.     Partner II (place hand on the curve of the neck just above the shoulder blades): Breathe into the warmth of my hand, send your breath into the neck, feeling the throat fill with air and the neck widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension from the neck.  Complete three rounds of this breath.

6.     Partner II (place hand on the back of the skull just above the neck): Breathe into the warmth of my hand, send your breath into the skull, feeling the nose fill with air and the face widen and expand.  As you exhale release any tension from the skull and face. Complete three rounds of this breath.

7.     Partner II (release hands from partner and sit back and watch): Breathe into your back space, exhale slowly.  Find your natural breath.

Watch as your partner Rides the Wave of the Breath.  What do you notice?  Trace the curve of their breath on paper and/or generate some observations.  Where does the breath have free range of motion; where does it stick or skip?

Listen as your breath rides through your body.  What do you notice?  Where does the breath have free range of motion; where does it stick or skip?

To safely rise from the floor, press hands at shoulder level and shift body weight back into the legs—Child’s Pose.  Slowly roll up to seated.

Partner I: take 5 minutes to free-write your experience: what resonates, remains, emerged?

Share your experiences.

Part II

Go back into your free-write (for generative) OR a previous writing (for revision) and circle 3-5 phrases/words that stand out to you.  Read the word/phrase out loud.  Listen to how it resonates in your core: where does it strike along your spine?  A place of stickiness or freedom?  Repeat the word out loud until you have identified where it sticks/hits/opens/moves in your back body.  Record.  Repeat with other phrases/words. Write the story of the back space and/or revise draft accordingly: do you want to create an experience that opens your blocks or exposes your blocks?  Why?  Are there any baseline words/phrases?  How do they work to highlight the range?  Score on the page.

We would love to hear the results and/or process of this experiment.  Feel free to share here!

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Somatic Lab #1: Chirality

For the next few weeks, Kristen Park is our guest on Tumblr and she will be posting a series of writing prompts.

When exploring the molecular “tactics” of crystal in 1894, Lord Kelvin described the phenomenon of “handedness” in stereochemistry by stating:

I call any geometrical figure, or group of points, 'chiral', and say that it has chirality if its image in a plane mirror, ideally realized, cannot be brought to coincide with itself. 

As an (struggling) o-chem student, my instructor explained this using the analogy of “looking glass milk” from Alice in Wonderland: would it be safe to drink (take drugs) that were the mirrors of the compound? What could happen?  An example of chirality in the body can be experienced by exploring the hands (and feet); place your right hand on a surface, stack your left hand on top—not the same.  Along the mirror plane of the body, the right hand can never be transposed onto the left hand and vice versa. At the risk of sounding like Arcade Fire, reveal your right hand to a mirror and try to cover it with your left hand—add more mirrors—what happens?  Chirality demonstrates asymmetry; asymmetry allows shape to hold memory—archives of distinctness: Ceci n'est pas une pipe; this is not a right hand.

Western culture spends a huge chunk of time in its canon professing the aesthetic beauty symmetry provides.  Following the logic of mathematician-musician-engineer-psychologist Michael Leyton, symmetry creates erasure whereas asymmetry holds time and thus creates an architecture for memory.  Western culture, I think I am done with seeking “perfection;” give me a dent, a cut, a scar, a scab, a lump, a bone spur—something to experience.  Screw symmetry!  Tension holds but torque changes.

Here are two exercises to explore chirality/asymmetry in your body and in your body of work.

Generative:  Return to the mirror.  Trace the edges, lines, shapes that exist in your reflection.  List observations on paper.  Note sameness; note distinction.  Turn away from the mirror (and close your eyes, if comfortable).  Trace the edges, lines, shapes that exist in/on your body. Use your hands.  List observations on paper.  Confront/Contemplate the observations made with the eye (of your reflection) and the hands. What stands out to you?  What do you notice?  Why?  Consider writing the story of a physical-tangible scar/asymmetry that you found in the observation practice OR a rupture/bridge/asymmetry you discovered between your eyes and hands. Write the tension to find the torque—when and where does holding shift—to what?

Revision:  Gather up a piece of writing that feels too tidy, neat, complete, or done.  Prepare to make a mess of it.  To warm your body and brain up for this exercise, lay on your back.  Allow your legs and hands to reach up to the sky.  Practice some nonlinear movement by shifting the limbs and listening to the response in the body.  What happens if right leg and right arm move in the same direction at the same time?  In opposition?  In conjunction with left?  In opposition to left?  How does the core/center/belly-back react?  Roll the body over into a table. Crawl.  What do you notice?  How do diagonals work in the body (cis and trans)?  Return to your writing.  As you read through the piece mark the symmetries and asymmetries that occur at the level of sound, shape, sequence, event, or story.  Peel back any bandages from the drafting process and let the wound experience some fresh air—don’t touch/aggravate—just expose.  Listen for the places wound too tight or ironed too smooth—create a pleat/ split a seam; give the moment some room—consider silence/white space.  To renegotiate symmetry on a reflection line, you can add or subtract from a side: what can be extracted?  What can be inserted?  Watch the piece shift.  Instead of coming full circle—consider the spiral—splice piece to create a new beginning/end/point of entry.  Pull.  Crawl through your text.  What diagonals (shifts) can you sense and how has the core/center of gravity reacted?  What remains?

We would love to hear the results and/or process of this experiment.  Feel free to share here!

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Gorgeous covers

The incredible book covers of the legendary Peter Mendelsund

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Ruth Franklin, Shirley Jackson scholar and biographer extraordinaire, wrote a wonderful essay for The New York Times Book Review on Penguin Books’ recent reissues of Shirley Jackson’s slyly hilarious memoirs, LIFE AMONG THE SAVAGES and RAISING DEMONS. In her essay, “Household Words”, Franklin writes that:

“Read today, [Shirley Jackson’s] pieces feel surprisingly modern—mainly because Jackson refuses to sentimentalize or idealize motherhood…. [Jackson’s] household stories take advantage of the same techniques she developed as a fiction writer: the gradual buildup of carefully chosen detail, the ironic understatement, the repetition of key phrases and the unerring instinct for just where to begin and end a story.”

You can read the full essay here!

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Write something terrible today.

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I bite my shadow's ears I swim in myself all day / Why are all mermaids female? Do they self-produce?

Kim Hyesoon (translated by Don Mee Choi), All the Garbage of the World, Unite!