Last week I attend the first Facilitation Shindig in the series being hosted by Julie Drybrough (@fuschiablue). We, a small group of dedicated Facilitators seeking to be better, to grow, to learn about who we are in that space, gathered together in MadLab, Edge Street, Manchester.
We focused on Reflective Practice, something I blogged about previously – how we use, what we do, what it means, the value, the challenges. And then we tried out Wild Writing. Julie introduce the concept via the philosophy of Natalie Goldberg and explained the rules:
- Don’t stop or edit
- Keep your hand moving
- Don’t worry about spelling of grammar
- Give it gusto – go for the jugular
- Lose control
Writing has kept me going. Has let me empty my head of all the stuff – yes stuff. I can’t think of a better word because it’s been so stuffy and blocked up in there to the point where I can’t seem to empty it or get any peace and this from a girl who’s yoga-ed regularly for the last 13 years. It got full up. Stuffed full of things that don’t need to be in there and so I wrote and wrote and wrote the craziness down onto pages and pages and pages. Not for you or anyone else to read but for the space for mind-dump for the freedom from the thoughts that haunted and circled like vultures feasting on a moments peace. Pause and they swoop with elegance and precision that encourages you to honour and consider their all consuming seductive nature – you actually have no choice. (Oh but you do! You do have a choice! You always have a choice!) And I want to write so badly. Something coherent. Something with structure. Something with content that is of some value to you, or to me. But all I have is this. And wild writing so fast and without a pause so that I can come back. I am back, and will be more back, and I will write again. I will always write.