Stinky Meth Head Jesus

Stinky Meth Head Jesus

Maybe you’ve heard the story about the couple who are expecting Jesus to stop by, but when they open the door of their house, low and behold, it’s not Jesus at all who’s come knocking, but a couple of dirty hoodlums who haven’t washed or eaten in days and who are asking to come in for a bath and a meal. “No way,” one of the householders says to the other, “we’re holding out for Jesus,” and they shut the door. Now, if you know the story, you know that the dirty hoodlums are actually Jesus and a friend, checking up on these folks to see if they are real Christians or not – checking to see if they actually have unconditional love in their hearts and would let a couple of guys who looked like meth heads in, or whether they could only host the shiny idea they were calling Jesus. It’s a good story, and it has a lot to do with what we’re up against every day as writers, hoping that the shiny, clear-skinned Jesus will show up with his sophisticated, intelligent words, which he’ll then help us to assemble into smart sentences and possibly into real stories, the kinds of stories that will make us believe in ourselves. We’re writers! But the truth is, sometimes interesting words and thoughts show up on the page, but sometimes not, and what we’re training ourselves to do in Wild Writing is to keep writing, to keep our pens moving no matter who shows up on the page, Shiny Jesus with the fancy Corvette and the tickets to the...
Today is LAUNCH DAY for the Wild Writing Teacher Training

Today is LAUNCH DAY for the Wild Writing Teacher Training

Wild Writing Teacher Training is a 5-month-long class for men and women who want to learn how to lead a life-changing writing process that invites people to show up on the page in a deeply powerful and authentic way. The teacher training will take trainees into the depths of their own writing, guide them into leadership, and show them how to create, market, and run their own Wild Writing workshops. I can’t think of a more productive and rich way to meet the world today than with the fierce and loving guidance of Wild Writing. It’s a sobering, beautiful practice that we take to the page and into our lives. Becoming a Wild Writing teacher will change your life and the lives of the people you get to work with. If you’re looking for a new career path or a magnificent tool to add to the work you already do with people, consider the Wild Writing Training. It’s going to be amazing and I’m taking 10 people on this journey with me. Would you like to be one of them? Check it out here. AND … If you sign up before Monday February 13th you will get a nice little early bird discount. You can submit your application right now, or if you’d like to hear more about it I would love to have you … Join me for a public call on Friday January 27th at 1PM Pacific to ask questions and find out more about the training. Call 641.715.3655 When prompted for a code, press 358997 Sending love, energy and light as we move into this important...
Fist Bumping Into Thin Air

Fist Bumping Into Thin Air

In my dream last night, I was telling a friend that I had begun to see things as they really were, in a more sober, honest way. “Yes!” he said enthusiastically, extending his fist to meet mine so we could fist bump. “Yes,” I said, extending my fist to meet his, which is when I woke up, my fist extended in mid-air, meeting nothing but the gray early morning light of my room. It was funny and a little sad; fist bumping into thin air, but at least I was fist bumping something. The New Year has started, not with a bang and not exactly with a whimper, but certainly with some sobriety, and by that I mean a desire to see things the way they are – which is always subjective, I mean, what is true? What exactly is the way things are? And how might I respond to what I see? Living demands some serious imagination, and I don’t say that sarcastically. I mean it for real. To see what is, but to stay open and imaginative to what you’re seeing so that you don’t rush to meaning, is a bit of a stretch for the 9-5 mind. My kids are off and assembling their own lives. They each spent their New Years, not here at home, but far away from here, with their friends and new loves. This home of mine was quiet. I chose to spend the New Year alone, to make myself a fire, lay in a bath, listen to music and cobble together something to eat. Was this day lonely or was it...