Keys you have them Slippy mind you tucked them in your chest prepared to unlock the world
You don’t need to wait, you can open it for you.
Saschia Johnson
There are so many times we wait for someone else to unlock the door for us but the whole time we have the keys tucked away. Don’t forget that you have everything you need inside you. I know, I know, sounds like something from an animated children’s movie. But hear me out, let’s cool the keys what they are, tools. The tools you’ve acquired to get where you are now, are so valuable.
Our minds filter out what it thinks we don’t need. They say we don’t notice details when we take the same route to work every day. The same happens with our natural gifts. When we do something so easily, we tend to undervalue it, maybe even think anyone could do it. But it’s not true. Yes, some people could probably do it and some people might do it better but the point is, that tool is yours to open doors with. It doesn’t matter what anyone else is doing with theirs.
If you’re good at walking and you just love walking, organize a group. Walk in a way that challenges you. Find a job that you can walk to. Add music and make videos online until you and your tribe find each other. It’s way too often in this life that these valuable gifts are overlooked. Those doors are yours, so get those keys out.
You don’t learn to walk by following rules. You learn by doing, and by falling over. -Richard Branson
And no, I don’t mean in the morning. Writing in many ways shines a light on the parts of yourself that you didn’t even notice. And the lessons that come with being a writer also tend to shine a light on your flaws, whether it be procrastination, perfectionism, or fear. The entire process proves many things that you are not.
You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That’s why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence. ― Octavia E. Butler
While it may shine a light on what you are not, it also shines a light on all the things you’re capable of accomplishing. I’ve been working on my experimental fiction novel for over a year and I haven’t lost my fire. I’m nearing the end of my second rewrite so I will be transitioning to focus more on development of worlds and characters. Which is fun but new worlds can feel daunting. Anyhow, it feels good, the fact that writing my novel got me through one of the hardest times of my life and I’m still going with as much or maybe even more motivation as when I started. I’m a long term commitment type of person. I like friends from childhood, I like memories, and I like to have a family growing beside. So I’ve learned, writing this book is a wonderful addition to my existence. With all that being said, writing has awakened me to a trust in myself that no other occupation has gifted me.
What’s more is that spending time with my characters has really helped me look inward. I often ask myself, would I do that if I was in that situation. If the character does something I never would, I sit with that character and calculate each step which makes me realize, I’m not different from the villians in my story. Thinking about my writing, even with significant amounts of solitude, connects me with humans around the world.
“‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’” — E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web
The writing process isn’t the only thing that wakes me up. The community I’ve gained while developing myself as a writer is a huge part of the waking up process for me. I’ve joined writing communities on every platform and I feel at home in every single one of them (except for maybe tumblr). The writing community is a culture I wish everyone could be part of. The communities wake me up to a million things; genre preference, what I’m capable of, walls worth breaking down, and grammar rules worth accepting. But my all time favorite aspect of the writing communities I follow is that I am enough. Whether I have typos, unfinished work, 10 followers or 2k followers, they are there cheering me on on every platform.
Waking up to who your are and what you’re capable is one of the most valuable things you could do while you’re breathing. I wish with all my might that someday this journey will pay our bills. While I’m traveling there, I won’t forget to reach out to other writers, to look within, and I definitely won’t forget to celebrate my milestones. Let’s keep going, shall we?
Anyone moderately familiar with the rigours of composition will not need to be told the story in detail; how he wrote and it seemed good; read and it seemed vile; corrected and tore up; cut out; put in; was in ecstasy; in despair; had his good nights and bad mornings; snatched at ideas and lost them; saw his book plain before him and it vanished; acted people’s parts as he ate; mouthed them as he walked; now cried; now laughed; vacillated between this style and that; now preferred the heroic and pompous; next the plain and simple; now the vales of Tempe; then the fields of Kent or Cornwall; and could not decide whether he was the divinest genius or the greatest fool in the world. ― Virginia Woolf, Orlando
Just a little note: If you’re a writer looking for writing groups to be part of, reach out to me on Instagram at @jayne_press and I’ll try my best to guide you in the right direction. Happy Awakening fellow Writers.
He toils away his days tossed like the dirty laundry that’s left next to the hamper. Not an ounce of passion pulses through his tired veins. His insides sink below the earth while his muscle memory does the work
Am I of any use here? he shouts to the heavens. The wind places itself into his net What use am I to the wind?
This poem was originally published on a Medium publication titled Know Thyself Heal Thyself. The highlighted sections are the lines Medium readers appreciated most.
What you’re willing to die for, should be the same as what you’re willing to live for. Death is inevitable. Not in a depressing way but we all know it’s coming. What’s unknown, though? Your greatness? The impact your writing will have? How much you will change with your mere existence? Those are all unknowns and they always will be. One of my favorite songs from Eminem’s Music to Be Murdered By -Side B album is his song titled Higher. Here’s a line
All I know is every time I think I hit my ceiling I go higher than I’ve ever fuckin’ been
That’s something worth thinking about. For a long time, I knew my daughter was the only thing in this life worth dying for. I said that religiously. But I was killing myself. I had destructive thoughts. While I did enjoy fitness, I still wasn’t taking in enough calories so it was taking a toll on my mental health. My digestion went downhill. My emotions went downhill which had an impact on my relationship and ability to make proper decisions for the future of my daughter.
Then it hit one day. Okay, you’d die for your baby and your mom but what are you willing to stay alive for? Life is fuckin hard as shit. So hard in fact that living in a healthy way is the best most precious gift I could ever give to myself and my daughter.
That shift in mindset changed my entire perspective on why I’m alive and how I should be thinking about my purpose, my motivations, my disciplines, and my relationships.
So yes, how did you die, but it also means (and more importantly) How did you live?
How Did You Die?
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts, But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that! Come up with a smiling face. It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there-that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce Be proud of your blackened eye! It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts; It’s how did you fight-and why?
And though you be done to the death, what then? If you battled the best you could, If you played your part in the world of men, Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, And whether he’s slow or spry, It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts, But only how did you die?
This is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. She is an award winning author from Nigeria. She speaks in this Ted talk (which is now one of the most viewed Ted talks of all time) about how we need to be careful of the single story.
Without saying too much, I find it so commendable and inspiring of her to admit that she fell into the same flaw as the people who frustrated her most. She fell for the flaw of believing the single story.
When it comes to stories, I’d never refuse a good book that was handed to me. I read books from outside of my culture regularly. But then I thought about it and the truth is, I only read them because of school or because someone well read suggested them to me. I haven’t intentionally searched for reads outside of what’s suggested to me. Which naturally leads me into the world of dominant culture.
This talk was eye opening for many reasons, but most of all, that it is time I began to intentionally search for stories outside of American and European pop culture. Then I want to listen to what is missing from the stories I’ve already been told. I want to do this because I don’t want to limit myself from learning to accept that humans, in every walk of life, are my equal.
These days more and more symbolist poets are stepping out and showing their true colors. Some of you may have had a loved one step into the world of symbolist poetry and feel as though you have lost touch. Some of you might have found a symbolist poet you’re interested in on your timeline. I’m here to let you know, there’s a sliver of hope when it comes to connecting with the symbolist poet of your dreams.
When you’re outside of the symbolist community, it can feel overwhelming. You might even feel like you have to compete with other symbolists who seem to know exactly what to say to your symbolist poet. Those damn poets, they are good with both words and emotions, but let me tell you, there is hope. There is a way to connect with your poet. There is more than one way to cultivate a strong connection with your poet and I’m here to share these ways with you.
First things first, since I am a female poet, this will be advice on how to connect with a female poet. I’m not a man, so I’m not sure I could write an honest piece on how to connect with a male symbolist poet.
Let’s get started, shall we?
Know that you are worthy enough for her.
Symbolist poets study humans down to the nitty gritty. They learn to feel everything because if they didn’t, they would not grow as poets. So, the first way to cultivate a strong connection with your poet, is to know that you are valuable and you are enough. Yes, poets like beautiful things, but what they appreciate more is honest things. If you’re trying to connect with your poet while having a false sense of self, she will know. Your best bet is to know you’re worthy with or without her so she doesn’t feel you’re being fraudulent right off the bat.
Be Honest.
Charles Bukowski isn’t popular among writers because he’s an asshole who slept around. Ok that might have something to do with it, but mostly he’s popular among writers because he told the truth. As a writer, he was open and honest about all of his feelings. He wrote about how bad he felt for the shitty things he did. He wrote about how empty he felt at times. As a writer, Bukowski was an open book. He was open even about something as small as the shame he felt after road rage. Don’t confuse a poet’s love for Buk’s honesty, with the idea of craving a rockstar boyfriend. This can be applied to any poet really. So the point is, just be honest about everything. Poets crave to hear you be honest about what you’re feeling.
Learn how to use your honesty.
Ok, so this is where honesty can get tricky. Some people think you should always be honest. Some people think you should not tell your wife when she looks fat. I’m here to say, you’ve got to learn how to use your honesty. Chances are, this symbolist poet already knows the truth. Chances are she values your opinion. So how can you learn to use your honesty? If you feel like you’re telling her the truth just to prove that you will, that’s not honesty. Being honest with your poet takes a lot of being honest with yourself. Self-acceptance is required in order to learn how to be honest with your poet.
Accept Yourself.
If your poet is into you or has already committed to you, it is vital that you learn to accept yourself for who you are. Even if you are courting a poet, when you don’t accept yourself, your lack of acceptance can come out toward her in underhanded remarks. You may not even notice that you’re doing it. Be aware of the parts of you that you’re ashamed of and then love those parts. Do this over and over again, so you don’t unintentionally hurt your poet.
Give snacks as gifts.
Don’t ever underestimate the power of snacks. Learn her snacks. Know her snacks. Gift her with her most loved snacks. Trust me on this one.
Show consistency.
Show up. Keep doing it for her. Do it when she’s sad. Do it when she’s happy and everything is going great for her. Show up when she doesn’t need you at all. Just show up. This will cultivate a sense of trust. Symbolist poets have an interesting understanding of the human condition. They understand the strong desires inbred in our DNA. The chance of you abandoning them are always high in a symbolist poet’s mind because that’s reality. I’m not saying they have abandonment issues but they are always prepared to be abandoned. Prove them wrong.
Listen to her.
They have thoughts running through their minds on vast levels on a regular basis. They are recalling and connecting poetry, poets, images, movies, history, occult knowledge, mysteries of the universe, serial killers, astrology, what time they should post, a lecture they heard ten years ago, last time they showered, ok you get it. So let them get a few things off their chest by listening to them ramble, so they can move on with their lives.
Let her love you.
This one is not easy. It sounds really easy. Who doesn’t want to be loved, right? Symbolist poets love entirely. They have and are always learning to accept all parts of themselves. They are constantly learning and relearning themselves so, the way they love you is going to be some of the most pure love you’ll ever receive. They aren’t perfect by any means. But chances are, they’ve already taken notes on your body language, on your choice of words, on your interests and dreams and can pretty much love you exactly where you are. It’s going to feel real weird. It’s going to feel almost unreal, like when people just give away good quality free shit. With free shit there’s always a catch, but with symbolist poets, this isn’t the case. Self acceptance is required in order to grow as a symbolist poet and self acceptance is the root of unconditional love. They are always working on self acceptance. So, if you’re questioning whether your symbolist poet will always love you, you can stop questioning, because she will always love you. Soak up her love while following the guidelines above, and you’re golden.
Respect her.
Now chances are, you could do all of these things right to a T, but if she’s not interested, and voices that to you, your best option is to respect her and let her be. Letting a symbolist poet go when she asks is one of the most divine acts of love and she will respect you far more for it.
If all else fails,
become a symbolist poet yourself. You know what they say, “If you can’t beat em, join em.”
Thanks for reading, Your humble symbolist poet, Saschia Johnson
The divine woman rose from the dust of her fallen father and grandfathers.
Her naked body warm and beating with life; Her hair so long it brushed the ground she walked on.
She was gifted with bliss from her fathers who begged Hades for her happiness.
She wandered the woods and fell upon a man a woodsman.
He was skilled in his craft; she admired him so much. She wrapped her sunkissed arms around him and expressed her love for him.
He, a married man, could not tell such a divine beauty the word no. So he promised to love her till the end of days; but that she had to remain in the woods and he’d return to her everyday.
She, in her bliss, obliged.
She spent her days singing with the birds gathering flowers and wading in the hidden waters.
Her fathers looked up with content to see their daughter so happy and healthy
It didn’t matter that the woodsman was married so long as their daughter was happy and thriving in her own true nature.
The woodsman was consistent with his visits and brought her great chairs and built her a shelter. He brought chocolates and wines, and loved her more than he loved his own wife and children.
Jayne.press 