“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
~Edward Bulwer-Lytton. (1803-1873) British politician, critic, novelist and playwright.
Years ago (as an early teen), half-way through a 7-year assignment in South Korea, the fam returned to the US for the summer for “family leave.” (This was pretty much a standard with the military/dept of defense to keep families, especially with long tours of duty, connected to “the land of the big PX” and assimilate kids and adults to the current American culture and status quo, and a time to visit relatives back home.) The fam spent that summertime between the two grandmothers’ homes: Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, and Denver. Two grandmothers, as different as night and day.
After a brief stopover in Denver, the fam headed to RFL, w-a-y the hell up those rocky mountains to, basically, a hamlet surrounded by lakes and pine trees, a dirt road and a general store cum post office and ammo and bait shop. Lots of fishing and hunting in them thar regions. Not exactly a mecca for a 14-year-old, no matter how much an introvert I was. (In actuality RFL is a gorgeous spot, full of pristine air, stunning beauty of towering mountains, equally towering pines, crystal clear lakes, wildflowers and aspen trees, and a sense of Spirit that I didn’t have words for back then….yet could feel.) Now, back to the 14-yr-old.
I had begun the teenage habit of having and writing in my diary ~ one of those ones that had the faux gold clasp and a teeny-tiny key. (Huh ~ hindsight: I was the daughter of a spy, so why in heaven’s name did I think that t-t-key would actually safeguard that diary! Hahahahahahaha! Whew. But think it, I did.) I would write about my mutters and grumbles, my longing for my friends back home (Seoul), and maybe an occasional bit of fun ~ like how the fam would play cards in the evening, or hiking up one of the mountains behind Gram’s log cabin, and dangle my legs off a ledge over one of the lakes far below (Hiawatha? Princess?…), or laying in the aspen grove next to a stream and listening to the leaves sound like bamboo wind chimes. But most of all, I poured my angst out in my diary. And one day….
…after convincing my grandmother to take me with her while she fished for dinner (trout mainly), she conceded to do so. I was rather excited as this is the first time I remember she and I doing something together, just us. No siblings. No parents. Just the two of us. She lent me a pair of galoshes, we headed down the cabin stairs, crossed the dirt road, down the knoll, to the lake. It was a picture-perfect day.
As I had never been fishing before, I was full of questions about baiting the hook, how to hold the worms, how did I know if a fish ‘bit’, when did she learn, how long had she been fishing,…. pretty typical Lin-who-loves-to-learn behavior. After about 4 minutes of my exuberance, curiosity, movement, and questions, she turned to me and sternly said “Hush now. You’ll scare the fish.” Wow.
When I got back to the cabin, I grabbed my diary, and unloaded. Mean old witch. Fish more important to her than I am. I hate it here. I hate her. She’s just mean. You get the gist. The next morning, when I was coming in the back from the hills, she and my mother were standing in the front room, holding my diary. Seems granny decided to read it. And she was pissed! Haig (mom) was angry too, probably from having to listen to Eda unload on the “how dare I write about her that way.”
Neither of them apologized for reading the diary. I was to apologize for what I wrote. Huh.
A few days later Ken (dad) took me down in Denver to his mother’s home; the other grandmother’s house. Hallelujah! I never returned to RFL the rest of that family leave.
I also never wrote in that or any other diary again.
Fast forward decades, and now my journey-teachers / wayshow-ers / mentors / counselors / coaches are telling me to “write it down.” Whaaat?? Resist I did! I could and would think about it (what ever the ‘it’ was); envision change, create mental full-length feature films, manifest my tush off – in Mind. Yet I was s-t-r-o-n-g-l-y averse to putting it in writing. ‘Til I wasn’t.
I discovered the Power and release of writing unmailed-letters. Journaling and spilling-the-funk-out; the forgiveness to Self and others. The letting go of decades of baggage. Honesty. Clarity. Greater Integrity. Write it down. And also….
The downright FUN of envisioning, in writing. Creating my own Bill of Rights. My Declaration of Independence. What I want this day / week / month / year / Life to look like. Clarity. Catching ‘old thoughts and behaviors’ and changing the direction and trajectory. The POWER of the declaration of a Word to be a template. And: ‘Wants and Intentions’. Spirit connection. Making manifest – High Side Only. (Why would I want to manifest the Low-Side funk?)
I’ve come a long way, baby. Right on. Write on! 🤗
Write it down. Give it life. Create YOUR Life. A line at a time. Yesss.
Namaste’
PS ~ a new bevy of ‘Word’s folks have shared with me, for me to Know with them for this year:
Experience Adventure Better Recovery Calm Progress Joy Listening Serenity (2) Patience (fun thing about this is that a couple, unbeknownst to each other, chose this same word. Their relationship is going to Rock!). Yippee!! (That’s me, expressing joy 🙂