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{This is from a journal entry I wrote on Friday afternoon. I was generating ideas for writing prompts for one of my Mondo Beyondo dreams. I’m not certain it’s polished, or that the writing prompts are coherent to another writer, but I’m posting it here in an honest attempt to be true to my existence.}

Choose a story you heard as a child. Write down a memory of one time you heard that story.Write as the child in that moment. Include the environment, the people, the details you remember. Leave out interpretation of the experience – simply write your memory.

Now, take the same memory and write it as an adult, looking back onto the event. Try to not reference the first piece of writing; the goal is to write as view the memory now, in this present moment.

Where do these two stories intersect? What have you learned as an adult around this story? What does the child you know and experience that your adult self has forgotten?


The stories we heard as children have a profound impact on us, in both conscious and unconscious ways. Often, the choices we make as adults are directly related to stories (many forgotten) we heard and internalized as children. From family lore to faerie tales, we all have a suitcase full of stories. Usually this suitcase is strapped to our shoulders, weighing us down with the burden of memories and beliefs — some of which no longer serve us.

I believe it is possible for memories to float like feathers.

I believe it is possible to share these stories with the world — to lessen our own burden, to teach a lesson, to laugh until we cry. As women we carry these stories in our womb-space and in our hearts. How many times have you felt trapped in memory’s snare? Like a feral cat backed into an alley, we sometimes lash out, fighting the stories we hold so close. What if we set them free? And, in turn, released our selves?

Not all stories are easy. Not all stories can be told in an instant. Some stories can only be whispered. Some shouted from the tallest heights. The way you tell your story determines how it flies into the world. I do recommend, though, that you tell the story completely. It is a disservice to both you and the tale to only go halfway.

Afraid of heights? Then curl up in your favorite spot with a good notebook and pen. Put on some music and dive into your studio. Whatever the medium, just create. The story may become too intense, may frighten you, or piss you off. Allow yourself to feel each emotion. Go for a walk. Call a close friend. Sit down and cry. When you are ready, return to the story. Greet it with kindness. Open your arms in compassion. When the story is told, like birthing something great, let it fly on the wings you have created.

As women, our stories are different. The stories we carry can influence our wardrobe, our habits, our eating, even our life partners. In the process of telling our stories we travel deeper, closer to the core of being, that nugget of existence that started being covered the moment we were born (pink or blue?). As we move closer to our own center, we bring those we love with us, and we make space for our mothers, sisters, daughters, and nieces to move closer, as well.

The sooner we tell the stories which are holding us back from our stories (I’m not good enough, I’m not really interesting, I’m just one person-how could my voice matter?), we can get to the really juicy stuff: the stories of our true selves, the story of our dreams, our desires, out longings. I believe that, if each woman told just one of her dream stories each week, radical change can and will happen in a very short time!

Leaf Spiral, LG Rumor

I watch last year’s leaves swirl in a column of wind. One always floats higher than the others, lighter than the others, and slowly, gently settles back down.

This leaf is someone’s dream story. Let it soar.