Stand still. The trees before you and the bushes beside you are not lost. Wherever you are is a place called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you, If you leave it you may come back again saying Here. No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
Little Fictions & Ragged Memoirs is the new incarnation of The Journal (and the Deep End).
I am shifting my focus to writing unfolding stories that develop over several weeks or even months. I have found that I like delivering work to The Journal that is more fully developed. Some of the stories are fiction and others are short memoirs. The writing is physical, cinematic and experiential. Think of Alice in Wonderland, Woman in the Dunes with some magic realism and surrealism salted in.
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Sometimes the shadows overwhelm the dance. In relationships, that can mean that we have fallen into shadow, and are no longer dancing. That seems to happens when there is no real listening, or our attention shifts to the dark parts – the unlit terrain of the relationship.
What is the path out of that? I think it is deciding that the history of the shadows, the background architecture of the story is no longer really important. What is needed is finding a way to flow forward with good intention. Then the shadows are not a problem, just playful dance partners.