Writing to Heal: Altar of Innocence Giveaway

This week's host is
Jone at Check It Out.

I had a phone call the other day from a teen writing workshop leader. Several of her students were writing about suicide. As a former suicide hotline volunteer, the workshop leader knew not to panic. She asked the teens what was up. They told her that a teenager in their neighborhood had committed suicide. They were processing their emotions through poetry.

One of the most challenging things we face, when working with teen writers, is helping our students navigate their emotions. I’ve had conversations with teens who are so frustrated with adults. Why do adults assume all teen poetry is autobiographical? Teens don’t want to land in the guidance office every time they write a dark poem.

But I’ve also reminded these same teens that if I see something concerning in their writing, I will check in with them to make sure they are okay. If I ask, “are you in trouble?” I need to trust that they will answer me honestly.

Today, I’ve invited a dear friend, poet Ann Bracken to guest blog. Ann’s new chapbook, THE ALTAR OF INNOCENCE, is a powerful look at depression, from its roots in family history to the fruit it bears in adulthood. For Ann, writing—writing poetry in particular—was a necessary part of healing.

We are giving away a copy of Ann's book today. Leave a comment to be entered in the drawing.

Order it from New Academia Publishing.

This post will touch many of you. Ann reminds me what a powerful force poetry can be during dark times, whether the writer is a teen or an adult.

Writing to Heal: A Poet Reflects

by

Ann Bracken

Poetry often serves as a form of therapeutic writing and provides an instinctive vehicle for people in pain.  Even people who would never dream of themselves as writers, much less poets, will often place their fears, hopes, and confusions into the safe container of a poem.  Maybe they will never share it with anyone else, and that is as it should be.  The purpose of therapeutic writing is to help each person make sense of the particular suffering they are experiencing in the moment.  Long before I had ever heard of therapeutic writing, I used poetry and journaling to explore the mysteries of my feelings as I struggled with depression and anxiety.

When I look back at how my own use of poetry helped me to deal with depression, I think about an experience with Thomas Moore, a psychotherapist and writer who wrote Care of the Soul.  When I heard that Moore was offering a weekend retreat near my home, I signed up immediately. His book spoke to me in ways that I did not understand and I wanted to know more about his ideas of the dark night of the soul. At the time, I did not know I was depressed, just that I felt very down and tired—feelings I could justify because I had suffered from a migraine for nearly two months. On a rainy December afternoon, Moore gave us an assignment—create a piece of art that represents what your soul might be saying to you. I had no energy for any of the art materials spread around the room, so I wrote the following poem: 

The Path

By Ann Bracken

Reluctantly I undertake the journey.

I resist going. I resist packing. I have no map.

I must go on the journey.

The path is shrouded in fog. My hands are cold.

They cannot grasp the suitcase straps.

The strap breaks. I stumble into a puddle.

I must go on.

At the time, all I knew was that the poem represented how I felt about my life.  It wasn’t until years later when I found it in my journal. Now I realize how my soul was speaking to me of depression through the use of images and the metaphor of the journey that I didn’t want to take.  

In addition to poetry, I also used journaling to help me through depression. At the time, I had just started working on polishing my skills as a writer, so I decided to keep my journal on the computer. Oftentimes my feelings were so overwhelming that the discipline of typing and looking at the words as they appeared on the screen offered me a safe distance from the turmoil and despair churning inside.  I also began to see writing my journal as an exercise in story-craft, especially when I recounted my vivid and highly symbolic dreams, like the dream where I can’t see myself in the mirror and a wizard appears telling me it’s because I’ve lost my soul.  That story offered an important metaphor for the pain I was facing and provided me with the courage to do what it took to get my soul back.

But what about writing by hand, I can hear people asking. Isn’t that a better way to process feelings?  To which I can offer a thunderous Yes!  I kept a spiral notebook handy in a private space so that I could rid myself of some of the messier aspects of my journey—a place to process the events that left me crying hopelessly or churning with anger. Sometimes I even spread newspapers on the floor and wrote using magic markers in big, bold letters, as if to match the out-of-control feelings.

My journaling practice in all its forms became a lifeline for me—a continuous map through the pain, hope, and discovery as I journeyed deeper into despair. I kept a journal long before I ever heard of therapeutic writing and the marvelous work of both James Pennebaker and Ira Progoff.

Ann's writing journal.

Eventually, my journal grew to over 400 pages recounting a dark pilgrimage that lasted nearly four years. The heavy binders holding my story sat on a closet shelf for 20 years before I turned to them as a resource for incidents I recount in my memoir in verse, The Altar of Innocence.   In writing the story of my illness, both poetry and journaling provided me with fresh insights about my situation and all the things that caused me to descend into depression’s “well of grief.”     

My deepest desire is that my book serves as a vehicle of hope and inspiration. Writing my story helped me to reach new levels of understanding and forgiveness—for my parents, my ex-husband, and myself. I put the book out into the world as an offering that it may do the same for others. We are never as alone as we think.

Afternoon Resolve
by Ann Bracken

Following the stream

of memories  I return

to the girl I was

tossing  a ball and jacks

on rough brick steps

then ditching my toys

I tip-toe into my mother’s

cheerless bedroom, sitting beside her

I rub her back

tracing circles over and over

her groggy words tumbling out

Sorry for always sleeping when you get home.

What saddened me more

than her sleeping

was the empty space

where she should have stood—

in line waiting for the teachers’ conferences,

helping out during playground duty

shopping for Saturday bargains.

And now these dark afternoons

I lie in bed sick

with pounding migraine

my own child-self

pushes me out of bed

before my children come home

somehow prodding me to help at Girl Scout meetings

somehow cheering for my son’s marching band

somehow shopping for Christmas gifts.

My daughter slides a card under the door

with the sun peeking out

from behind dark storm clouds. Inside she writes—

I know you want to shine.

My son says, “Keep going, Mom. It’s just like a mountain bike ride.

When your legs are tired and you want to quit,

you’re almost home.”

Posted with permission of the author.

Ann Bracken’s memoir in verse, The Altar of Innocence, was released in 2015 by New Academia Publishing. Her poetry, essays, and interviews have appeared in anthologies and journals, including Little Patuxent Review, New Verse News, Scribble, Reckless Writing Anthology: Emerging Poets of the 21^st Century, and Women Write Resistance: Poets Resist Gender Violence. Ann serves as a contributing editor for Little Patuxent Review, lectures at the University of Maryland College Park, and leads workshops at creativity conferences. You can find her online at  www.annbrackenauthor.com and www.possibilityproject.com.

Thank you for guest blogging today, Ann.

If you would like a chance to win THE ALTAR OF INNOCENCE, leave a comment about this post or with feedback for Ann.

See you on Wednesday when we kick off National Poetry Month, 2015 with a new project. Read about it here.

Source Poems: "The Well of Grief"

For National Poetry Month 2014, I have invited 17 authors and poets to guest post about source poems. In this series of essays, each writer will describe a single poem's significance in his or her life.

Welcome, Poetry Friday friends! Tabatha Yeatts -- my "neighbor" here in Maryland -- is hosting all of the Poetry Friday links today. You will find all things poetry at Tabatha's blog, "The Opposite of Indifference."

My dear friend (and another Marylander), poet Ann Bracken is today's guest blogger. This post is for high schoolers and up, as Ann speaks frankly about depression and poetry's role in healing.

Ann Bracken

Source Poems to Lead You out of the Darkness

Because it was so unacceptable to me, it often first appeared as a physical illness before I could recognize its true nature. There had been stomach pains, severe backaches, pelvic pain, and finally, a migraine headache that lasted for seven years.

Because I had encountered it so many times during my life, I knew the migraine pain signified something was very wrong, something in my soul, not just my body, but my very essence. Depression had descended again, and this time I did not flee the darkness. Instead, I took poet David Whyte’s words to heart and “slipped beneath the still surface on the well of grief.”

That surrender to the process of living with depression did not happen right away. At first I was angry with myself for getting sick again. I thought I had come so far. I can remember asking my therapist, “What else do I need to work on? Why can’t I just get it right?”

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

Luckily I was part of a bi-weekly prayer and mediation group that provided a refuge -- a non-judgmental place to talk about my fears. It took a long time and lots of different approaches, but the group helped me to understand the concept of surrender in a new way. That surrender did not mean giving up. Surrender just meant accepting what is and figuring out how best to live in the present moment.

But for anyone who has ever lived in the darkness of a prolonged depression, you will know the challenge of surrender.

Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.

I hung on to those words. They shone like a star peeking though dense fog. But what happened in that darkness? What were the gifts in the darkness that were at the bottom of the well? If I surrendered, would I be able to get well? Who would I be when the darkness lifted?

You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in.

Give up all other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

It sounds trite, but I realized that all my life I had derived my worth from what I did, not from who I was. I had stacked up accomplishments and projects to prove -- to myself — that I was indeed valuable: teaching Sunday school, assisting with Girl Scouts, teaching classes, running a small business. But the depression made those kinds of commitments impossible to sustain. I had to take care of myself.

Those friends in the prayer group had encouraged me to take on another kind of commitment -- to explore my burgeoning interest in writing. I had always kept a journal, so I began to journal using the computer. When I had vivid dreams, I wrote them down. Practice with imagery, I told myself. When I fought with my husband, I wrote down our dialogs. Practice for better ways of saying things. When I argued with my doctors, I wrote that down. Practice for getting my point across to authority figures. When I wanted to give up, I wrote that down. Practice for surviving.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

“Anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you.” As I gradually recovered from depression and the migraine pain began to subside, those words echoed over and over again in my mind. What could be too small for me? What was not bringing me alive? I had to finally admit that after 25 years of marriage and two children, my marriage was too small for me. My marriage was not bringing me alive. Those realizations were certainly not the gold coins I had expected to discover “in the darkness glimmering.” But my journey to overcome four years of a severe depression and seven years of a daily migraine had shown me that I could do anything if I believed in myself. And I had always believed I would get well. I knew I could begin a new life.

“Anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you.” That line of poetry serves as my compass when I struggle with choices. That line of poetry serves as the gold coin at the bottom of the well. I am getting better at only choosing those things that bring me alive. “The world was made to be free in” after all.

  

The Well of Grief

by David Whyte

Those who will not slip beneath

the still surface on the well of grief

turning downwards through its black water

to the place we cannot breathe

will never know the source from which we drink,

the secret water, cold and clear,

nor find in the darkness glimmering

the small round coins

thrown by those who wished for something else.

From Where Many Rivers Meet, 2007

Available at David Whyte's website here.

Sweet Darkness

by David Whyte

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb

tonight.

The night will give you a horizon

Further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in.

Give up all other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

from The House of Belonging, 1996

A video of "Sweet Darkness" -- David Whyte reads and discusses the poem:

David Whyte
from the San Miguel Writers Conference

Ann Bracken is an educator and writer whose poetry, essays, and interviews have appeared in Little Patuxent Review, Reckless Writing Anthology: Emerging Poets of the 21^st Century,  Women Write Resistance: Poets Resist Gender Violence, Life in Me Like Grass on Fire:Love Poems, Praxilla, New Verse News, Scribble, The Museletter, and The Gunpowder Review. In addition to teaching professional writing at the University of Maryland College Park and working as a poet in the schools, Ann presents frequently at writing and creativity conferences including Mindcamp of Toronto, Florida Creativity, the Maryland Writers’ Association, the Association of Independent Maryland Schools, and The Creative Problem Solving Institute. Website: www.possibilityproject.com

Previous posts in this series:

Laura Shovan on "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams

Dylan Bargteil on "On Moral Leadership as a Political Dilemma" by June Jordan

J. C. Elkin on "Hannibal Clim" (author unknown)

Diane Mayr on a haiku by Basho

Jone MacCulloch on "We Are Waiting (a pantoum)" by Joyce Sidman

Mary Bargteil on Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

Jacqueline Jules on "Mother to Son" by Langston Hughes

Pamela Murray Winters on "The Land of Counterpane" by Robert Louis Stevenson

Dennis Kirschbaum on "Rain" by Robert Louis Stevenson
Janet Fagal on "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" by William Butler Yeats

Linda Baie on "The Way It Is" by William Stafford

Pat Valdata on "Sea Fever" by John Masefield

Shirley Brewer on "The Singers" by Eavan Boland

Renee LaTulippe on "Daddy" by Sylvia Plath

National Poetry Month 2013: Tweetspeaking with Ann Bracken

It's our final two days in the TechnoVerse -- that place where technology and poetry intersect. It's time for me to made a confession. I like technology. Like. Not love.

A full list of TechnoVerse posts is here.

I draft new work on my laptop. I have a smart phone. There are two of me on Facebook: Laura the poet and literary community activist, and Laura who posts pictures of the kids for friends and family. For me, technology is definitely more of a tool than a love affair.

My 13-year-old daughter has been trying to teach me a "new" social media platform, Google Plus. The layout doesn't feel compatible with my brain. Isn't having two Facebook accounts being social enough? Retreating from online socializing is probably the reason I have never tried Twitter.

"Listen to me, don't listen to me!"
(Twittery lyrics from David Bowie.)

Today, my dear friend Ann Bracken shares one of her favorite poetry blogs: Tweetspeak Poetry. I won't be scared off by the title. According to Ann, there is no tweeting required at the Tweetspeak blog. It's a friendly site with great poetry & technology resources.

Tweetspeak Poetry: the best in poetry and poetic things

http://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/

Contributed by: Ann Bracken

Why would someone who doesn’t even have a Twitter account be drawn to a blog called Tweetspeak Poetry?  That’s the question I had to ask myself when a good friend of mine sent me a link to the site a few months ago. But I trust this friend who is an inspired poet—I knew she must be on to something, so I clicked on the link in the email and entered the serene poetic space called Tweetspeak. Unlike the hurried tweets I often hear on the radio, this site beckons you to slow down and tempts you to linger while you browse its array of resources.  Grab a cup of java, snuggle in your favorite chair, and I’ll take you on a tour of this week’s featured posts.

Poetry (by T.S. Eliot) from This Day in Quotes.

Where does poetry fit into your workday? Most people would shake their heads at the juxtaposition of poetry and work, but Tweetspeak has an entire feature section called Poetry at Work.  This week’s topic—The Poetry of an Organizational Chart—seemed to spring from the creativity game of finding two things that are unrelated and then  imagining all the possible connections they could share.  The author, Glynn Young, remembers when he worked for two large corporations that each employed over 30,000 people. He remembers the organizational charts that were part of every employee’s handbook because they held the secrets of the corporate hierarchy. Like a well-structured poem, “…organization charts followed rules, patterns and accepted practice. They had an interior rationale; they made sense for both themselves and the organization.” Although I only vaguely remember seeing an organizational chart at one of my early jobs, I resonate with the poetic concepts of internal structure, form, and order. Young goes on to compare the formal organizational structures of business in the late 20^th century to the “free verse” that is the networked environment of the 21^st century, both of which have esteemed places in the world of poetry.  As with any change, the challenge we face at work seems to be defined by how deftly we weave the best of the old with the best of the new.

After I explored poetry at work, I look a look at this month’s book club selection because it features one of my favorite books on poetry writing, Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge. 

Read about it at Goodreads.

I decided to read the post on following words—the daily practice that Wooldridge recommends—where you spend some time each day focusing on all the details of a particular activity or object. What is written on those slips of paper stuck in your journal? How do your fingertips look after you dig in the rich soil of early spring? What does the smoke from the fire smell like? She reminds us that the feelings in a poem come alive because of the poet’s focus on the details. Wooldridge urges us to play with words every day, to dive into the “wordpool,” collections of words borrowed from “poems, books, and conversations.”  When we play in the “wordpool,” we can make up words, juxtapose interesting combinations of words and free ourselves from the worry of making sense. Wooldridge concludes by confessing, “And I don’t worry about whether or not I’m writing “a poem.” Word pool. World pool, wild pool, whippoorwill, swing.”  I’m inspired to find my box of word tickets and play this weekend.

           

Besides the Poetry at Work and Book Club sections, Tweetspeak’s current features include The Top 10 Poetic Pics, The Poetry Classroom, 7 Fun Shakespeare Resources, and Carry a Shield: Ten Good Books About Dragons.  Make sure you scroll to the bottom of the page for the very last drop of inspiration-The Video Pick of the Week, featuring a video montage tribute to Vincent Van Gogh with Jane Olive singing “Starry Night.”  

Buy this Celtic dragon shield at Etsy.

Ann Bracken is a writer, poet, educator, and expressive arts consultant whose poetry, essays, and interviews have appeared in Women Write Resistance: Poets Resist Gender Violence, Reckless Writing Anthology: Emerging Poets of the 21^st Century, Little Patuxent Review, Life in Me Like Grass on Fire: Love Poems, Praxilla, The Museletter, and The Gunpowder Review. Her company, The Possibility Project, offers expressive arts programs for women of all ages. Ann was nominated for the 2014 Pushcart Prize and she is a lecturer in the Professional Writing Program at the University of Maryland.

I've got one last poetry website to share as we wrap up National Poetry Month 2013 in the TechnoVerse. We'll be checking out a site where teen poets can share their work in multiple platforms. Until then, happy writing.