Writing as a Sacred Art

Home for the Holidays

By C. J. Stegall-Evans

I just spent a few days home with my family over the Christmas season and, boy, did those lovely people feed me. I gained 700 pounds. By the time I was packing to leave I could hear my abs singing to the tune of, Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas:   

          I’m beginning to look a lot like a fat bird. Everywhere I go.

          It’s the cake, the ice cream and the pie that burst your seams

          When you visit home SWEET home. 

          Since you’re beginning to look a lot like a fat bird,

          I hope you don’t mind I bought you a jogging suite

          so no one will ask you when its due.

          We all know the father is cake and pie.

I really did have a wonderful time visiting my family and food is a very big part of our holiday traditions. This year I was particularly cognizant of all the meals I had especially Christmas dinner. I ate very slowly and savored every bite. There is something truly special about food prepared by people who love you; you can feel the love and taste the history. There was the traditional moist, golden fried turkey and cornbread dressing from my mom. There were also recipes from those who are no longer with us, like my Aunt Gwen’s famous apple custard pie.         

Part of our Christmas tradition is to have a non-traditional meal; Aunt Rudine created a taco bar with ground turkey, homemade guacamole, and all the fixings. Valerie made her to die for German banana split cake (which is actually a pie). We also feasted on green beans, squash casserole, and mash potatoes with gravy. We had strawberry jello with cream cheese balls filled with nuts. Appetizers: chicken salad, artichoke dip, and a fondue station with; which I used for roasting marshmallows. In my book roasting marshmallows spells Christmas. Cakes: Chocolate, cheese, pound, Japanese fruit, and red velvet. Pies: I never made it beyond sweet potato. And although, my dad did not cook anything for the dinner, his very presence filled me with happiness.    

So, why am I writing an entire post about food? Two reasons; first of all, my digestive system is such that my diet is restricted to primarily fruit and vegetables, so over the holiday I indulge in poultry, fish and deserts (never red meat). Secondly, because just like all the different foods came together and made the perfect meal for our family; all the different people of our clan come together to be a perfect family. I’m not saying we are a perfect family, but maybe we are perfect for each other as a family. Therefore, I would like to use my last post of the year to tell my family:  I love you and I value each and every member of our family for the unique quality you bring to the table.  

© 2009 by C. J. Stegall-Evans     

Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design

By C. J. Stegall-Evans 

I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Very Merry Christmas in this season of miracles. I’m sitting in the mall waiting for my car to be serviced at Sears. As I sit and people watch I began to think about my readers, I ask God to bless each and every one of you. I notice there is something special in the air and I take out my composition book and pen to record. It’s nice to sit and watch so many people with smiles on their faces. I notice some shopped at the Ugly Christmas Sweater Store, but that okay, Christmas is cause enough to be tacky.

A guy walks by pushing a big trash cart, smiling and speaking to everyone who passes. He even bumps elbows with the UPS guy (a fist bump for those with their hands full). He gives me a big smile and says, “Hello.”  I ask how he is doing. He says, “Fine, fine, that’s the only way to be.” I can tell he genuinely means it. 

Most people are not carrying packages, but rather seem to be out for a long mall walk. I also notice it must be dress your children cute day as I have seen everything from reindeer antlers to beautiful taffeta party dresses. Security passes on a segway; it looked more like fun than a job. There a lot of laughter in the air. I’m not a shopper so wonder if the mall is always like this or is this just a Christmas thing. A man walks by in a Santa hat with Christmas lights on the ball, we both smile and I know it’s beginning to look a lot like…

A family with two teen, a small child, grandparents and a mom stops in front of me and give each other long warm hugs. I’m having my car repaired with the money I was going to use to buy presents for my family; so this year I’m giving long warm hugs. Christmas really is more about what you feel than what you give. Have a Very Merry Christmas and don’t forget to give more than a few warm hugs.  

© 2009 by C. J. Stegall-Evans      

 Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design

For the past few days I have had the pleasure of waking and watching the sunrise on the Atlantic Ocean; that’s my kind of heaven. A few years ago I read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold and was taken aback by the sheer loveliness of the wording. In the book14-year-old Susie Salmon is raped and murdered and when she goes to heaven, her version is at school on the playground at recess. If we do indeed get the heaven we create for ourselves mine is definably the beach. When I was in seminary, no, I’m not ordained (Hark, the herald angels sing!), our professor asked us where do we meet God? Every person gave an answer relevant to parts of the church worship service.

 I simply said on the beach; at which point the class erupted in a litany (pun intended) of differencing opinions and Christians began speaking to me in a un-Christian-like manner. I had spent the previous year in jail and prison ministry and the experience I took away is (since I already knew God was in beauty) is that God is also in the desolate places. In other words God can meet you, as you are wherever you are; this is the beauty of omnipresence.

So when I look out upon the ocean I can feel the beauty and majesty that is God. Church is fine, but I’m sure God knows everyone is not going to be sitting in church. So, do the people who do not attend church fall by the wayside? Mind you this is only my humble opinion, but I think God can lift you up no matter where you are. The most wonderful thing about feeling closest to God on the beach; I don’t have to wait until I get to heaven for my reward, I just go the beach. That’s my kind of heaven.    

© 2009 by C. J. Stegall-Evans

Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design

Yes, procrastination is an art form. I went out to see the sunrise this morning sans pen because I didn’t feel like writing:

I‘m Not Going to Write About It

 I see the clouds swirl through the air as if waves in the ocean,

 but I’m not going to write about it.

 The clouds start swirling faster and they become a herd of dinosaurs running from the roar of the train that’s bursting into the morning,

but I’m not going to write about it.  

The sun slowly stretches out its arms and the sky becomes a dull blue-gray,

 but I’m not going to write about it.

The dinosaurs are tired so they stop in mountain pose; as the dinosaurs become mountains, a hungry seagull dive bombs a fish,

 but I’m not going to write about it.

Interesting, isn’t it; only a writer could write about not writing. Anyway I spent thirty minutes not writing, while writing in my head at the same time.

Earlier this year, comedian George Carlin died and the most interesting thing I read in an article was he was a “nine to five comic.” He had an office and he would show up for work and write every day. The difficult thing about writing is have to be dedicated and show every day.   Writers should write even if we don’t feel like it, every other job you have to show up and work every day, writing is no different. I (usually) write for a few hours after I exercise Monday – Saturday. Although, I don’t have to, I usually write on Sundays too, but you would be surprised how often procrastination rears its ugly head in a writer’s life.

Sometimes I give in to procrastination but most days I just write. When I find it really difficult I usually set a timer and sit down to write for exactly three hours. Sometimes it’s a long three hours and sometimes it flies. I‘ve been writing for so many years that I feel guilty or empty if I miss an opportunity. It takes twenty-one days to start a new habit, so try taking some time out of your schedule and for the next twenty-one days and write for twenty minutes. It does not matter what you write about, it only matters that you write. 

© 2009 by C. J. Stegall-Evans           

 Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design

I write to get that transcendent feeling of joy that I sense in every fiber of my being. I write because it gives me a sense of purpose. Writing makes me feel like anything is possible. When I’m writing my soul opens and I feel a heightened sense of awareness. It’s as if for that brief period all the stress of life just fades away there is a tiny bit of peace in the world.

My writing informs who I am and makes me a better person; it allows me know myself because there does not seem to be any other way. I write because it calms me down and lifts me up. I write because I am compelled and it makes my life worthwhile. I write because it sooths my soul and puts my life in perspective. I write because it makes sense. I write because life is so crazy I need the sanctity it showers over my life. I write because it is when I feel most real and more alive.

I wake up every day grateful to be a writer. I start the morning with what I consider my practice of writing as a sacred art. I don’t always know what I’m going to write about and sometimes have a difficult time collecting my thoughts; Then I remember to just relax and let the words come; I can always edit later. It does not have to be anything special I just have to write. It’s like exercising to stay in shape, except more fun.

I write to flex my writing muscles or because I’m lonely and it fills an inner void. I write because it makes me feel loved and heard. I write because it’s like breathing and I know I could not survive without it. Words have power; they can start wars and bring about peace. Words can make you a friend or an enemy. 

 Words can create; I get to write my life right the way the way I want to live it, and begin setting those words into action.  I write because I get to listen as the words come and peacefully pass through my ears (the ultimate sweet nothings). I write because it is the only part of my life that truly belongs to me. I write because it makes me feel important to myself.

I write because it is a form of prayer. I write because I could not see myself existing without it. I write because I don’t remember when I did not write on a regular basis. Writing has always been my way, a safety net. I write because it provides positive reinforcement for my life, and what it means to be human. I write because my words are tears poured out in ink.

Writing allows me to articulate grief, entertain feelings of, happiness, sadness, confusion, loneness, felling of being loved or unloved. Writing makes me feel like a princess who can sit around in her castle writing all day (no, I have no castle but I do have imagination).

Writing puts me in touch with the world around me, and if the need arrives takes me away from it again (there’s that castle again). Writing reminds me to make positive contributions to the world. Writing is my lifeline; it lets me get everything out. Writing is all I have in this world; in other words writing is everything.              

I have told you why I write; now please, share with me why you write?

(c) 2009 by C. J. Stegall-Evans

Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design