Press Kit

Write Now Mind sits at the intersection of listening, playing and writing. It Is a light-hearted writing and awareness practice that encourages us to befriend our own mind, to practice paying attention and capturing details. In Write Now Mind, we set a timer and write to a simple prompt. The instruction is to keep the hand moving, lose control and don’t think. We have to accept what wants to flow through and learn to trust our own voice. This is very different from carefully drafting a certain kind of paper (as is required in school.) Many people don’t write because they think they are not “good” at writing or because they have never published anything. They don’t consider themselves “writers.” I say that’s like saying you aren’t a hiker because you haven’t hiked the PCT. I formed Write Now Mind to remind us all that writing is something we practice and calling ourselves a writer happens when we do it, not when we “perfect” it. Write Now Mind is writing practice. And it is fun. Everyone who joins Write Now Mind is a writer! It is a stunningly supportive community too.

Meditation is a tool for uncovering the truth. Meditation is the mill, separating wheat from chaff. Meditation actually helps the brain to rewire itself, so for someone like me who suffered from PTSD, it means I have a method for overcoming the debilitating anxiety or “fight or flight” response to certain triggers. I no longer feel like a button constantly on the verge of being pushed.

These days, I think of meditation as mental hygiene. Like dental hygiene, I endeavor to do it daily, and life is simply better and hurts less as a result.

For me writing is a process that includes much more than putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. Writing requires me to pay attention to the details of life. I do a lot of background writing work that includes unstructured time when I allow an idea to simmer—to run into other ideas and meld. I find that ideas need time to brew, which requires undistracted, but also unstructured time, where I am neither focusing on something else, nor directly thinking about the idea itself, but rather am gently musing on it, rolling it around, letting it be in my awareness without confronting and controlling it. Often then the idea begins to take shape on its own so that when I sit down to write, the first draft comes out pretty easily.
I also, however, appreciate the discipline of putting pen to paper and writing—no matter what—of it being okay to write a crappy draft, just for the sake of writing something. I greatly appreciate the power of making commitments, so while I allow myself unstructured time, I also commit to a writing schedule. That is, if my unstructured musings have not brought me to the point of an easy flowing first draft, I still have to sit down and write—to meet my self-imposed schedule. These schedules differ depending on what is going on in my life. While writing my first  book, I wrote every day, but at other times, my commitment might be much less. I learned long ago when committing to meditate every day, that it was not nearly as important how long I sat, as that I sat for the time I committed, which might only be for five minutes a day. I treat writing similarly. Currently, as I am in the process of writing another book, my commitment is to write (or do related research or messaging work) 3 hours a day five days a week.

Going on silent retreat feels like a precious opportunity to me, akin to taking a vacation. The mind often doesn’t want to go beforehand. It sounds to the mind like a boring, painful, waste of time. My mind will try to convince me that it would be much better to go on a wild adventure or go relax on a beach, drink in hand somewhere, or even to keep working so to be “productive.” All of these are important and I enjoy them. Yet, I keep going on silent retreats too because it is good for me in the same way that exercising is good. The benefits outweigh those pesky naysaying thoughts. On silent retreat, I get to practice being still. I get to notice details that I normally would overlook. I get to practice investigating the nature of reality for myself. Am I my thoughts? My feelings? My desires? Where does my body end and the chair start?

The truth is going on silent retreat is both relaxing and an adventure—an inward adventure. Something magical happens when I go on silent retreat. I reboot. I unplug. Ultimately, I have a chance to listen to something more beautiful than my own thoughts. I begin to feel resonant with life itself. As the days go by, I watch as my body and mind settle. “Doing” seems much less seductive. Just being is enough.

The thing about silent retreat is, you just have to try it for yourself!

I love cooking and storytelling, painting, playing scrabble, and going on rock climbing adventures in our Sprinter van! I’ve recently started playing ping pong—maybe it will become a skill one day. I love being of service and approaching life that way, whether it is delivering a coffee to my husband every morning or cooking for a gang of twelve, or supporting new writers. I think my greatest secret skill, though, is in saying YES! to life (whatever curve balls it throws) and in knowing deep in my heart that Life is “goodness through and through.”