Learn to Write and Reclaim Your Scattered Story
I want to invite you to join the next session of storytellers in the workshop, Reclaim Your Scattered Story, but first I want to share a story about the fascinating way memory is layered in the brain:
The Fascinating Brain
84 minutes late.
She was 84 minutes late.
I had just begun my closing comments at my ninety-minute writing class when she shuffled into the meeting room at the cancer center, juggling a stack of mail, a book, and a large shoulder bag.
Her tardiness matched her age.
84.
"I know I am late," she said in a raspy voice. "But the traffic was terrible. Took me 50 minutes to get here."
"We're just finishing up," I said, glancing at the clock. From past experience I knew she would much rather chat than write her words and I had an appointment to keep after class.
"Oh, I know, I know." She carefully folded her body into a chair. " I needed to come tell you something."She pawed through her pile. Laid aside stamped envelopes, doctor's reports and shopping lists. She pulled out a copy of my book, Under a Desert Sky.
"I needed to tell you how much I loved your book." She cracked the spine and thumbed through the pages. "And you made me cry."She glared at me over the top of her dark glasses. "You know that's not easy to do. I am a crusty, old woman."
I did not contradict her, because I knew this was a point of pride, her fierce independence still making it possible for her to live alone. Through her past writing, I knew she had taken on doctors, family members, and negligent medical personal.
I couldn't help but wonder what story in my book stirred her to tears:
An interaction between my parents as they lived out their 55-year marriage?
The difficulties of a cancer diagnosis?
A conversation between me and one of my children?
The wrestling with God in the pages?
The Surprising Answer
"Poppies," she said as she pushed a strand of silver-streaked hair behind her ear. "You wrote about the poppies blooming at Picacho Peak. I remember going there and hiking as a girl."
Poppies?
I couldn't help but smile. I thought of all the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into several sections in the book. I certainly never thought a story about poppies would stir such intense emotion, but that is the way of memory, layered in the brain, waiting to be uncovered with a thought, a smell, a word, or an image.
I am fascinated with how the brain works. I love hearing stories that emerge after years of laying dormant.