Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

June 28, 2015

The Little Things – More Thoughts on Depression

Filed under: Beauty,Depression/Bipolar,Soul,The Memory of Light,Uncategorized — Francisco Stork @ 10:06 am

A few months ago I wrote about some of the lessons I learned while writing The Memory of Light, the novel scheduled for Spring 2016 that deals with a young girl’s recovery from a suicide attempt and depression. I said that one of the things I learned was the importance of having an ideal – an image of someone we want to be. Then in the months that followed that post, I thought and worried that the need for an ideal might be seen as some kind of quest for perfection which, because it is unattainable, might increase the sense of unworthiness, failure and shame so ingrained in depression. So I wanted to add this. Yes, the mental shift needed to heal from depression (which includes learning to function with its presence) requires an orientation toward the future, toward transformation, toward becoming someone you admire. But the healing powers of an ideal can be felt in even the smallest motions toward it. I can remember days when emptying the dishwasher and knowing that I managed to be helpful in some way felt like an accomplishment. Or the days when writing for fifteen minutes in my journal gave me hope. In some ways, the suffocating prison of depression forces you to focus on the little things of life. I like to think of Ivan Denisovich in Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s story about life in the Stalin work camps. At the end of the day Ivan remembers the brick wall he helped build, the unexpected extra cup of soup he received, and says to himself that all in all, it was good day. The small things. The kind word we manage to utter, the understanding silence of a friend, the yellow in the lily, the red leaves of the Japanese maple tree, the rain, the blanket, the memory of a touch, the smell of hot tea. The small things we do and the good things we notice, the glimpses of the beautiful that we catch, the light that we remember, these make up our journey toward our ideal.

The healing of depression will depend on our ability to integrate the aspiration toward something new and a loving acceptance of the now which encompasses not only who we are but who we have been and all that has happened to us. Ancient writers distinguish between spirit and soul. Spirit is an upward force that looks toward the future, seeks becoming, is restless for understanding and achievement. Soul is a downward force that pulls us toward silence, wants to linger in the beautiful and the unusual and the invisible, is at peace with mystery, is compassionate with frailty.The integration of spirit and soul is a life-long task for all, not just for those who suffer from depression. Yet it is in depression where a lot of us most acutely feel the dis-integration of these two vital forces. Depression is an illness of both spirit and soul. There is no upward push of spirit and the downward pull of soul, which in health gives our actions value and meaning, becomes in depression a destructive uncontrollable suction into a painful darkness.

So I come back again to the little things because that’s where you’ll find the wholeness of your soul and spirit. It is soul that will show you little instances of goodness, tiny moments of beauty and joy in your life. And it is spirit that will give you the strength and the direction to use those glimpses of goodness and beauty for the creation of the person you want to be, are meant to be.

March 4, 2012

March

Filed under: Beauty,Hope,Uncategorized — Francisco Stork @ 10:03 am

It’s in the root of elms,
Congealed and stirring.
In the buried daffodils.
In the chickadees’ song,
This deathless dawn.
In the sun’s opaque promise.
In the sustenance of light.
And the day’s breath.
Hope’s there, waiting,
For you to make.

.

January 13, 2012

Letter to a Young Author

Filed under: Beauty,Love,Uncategorized,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 10:55 am

Friend,

I am glad to hear about the joy you’ve found in writing. You ask if this is not a sign that you are meant to make of writing your life’s occupation. I don’t know. Is writing your vocation? If I may borrow the words from another author friend: “Vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s great need.” You have found gladness, but are you writing to the world’s great need? The world’s great need will be met when you write the one novel you came into this world to write. It is the one that scares you the most, the one you think no one will publish and if it is published then no one will read and if it is read then no one will understand, except perhaps another soul like yours. Spend your life trying to write this one book. You may never get there. What matters is that you get closer and closer to it with every book you write. Direct your life so that on your deathbed you can say I never gave up trying. Don’t be afraid of failure. And if you fail, look for the door that opens to the place you were looking for all along. Have the courage to write with beauty. Let your prose strain towards poetry. Sometimes there is no other way to say what you need to say. But remember always the honest beauty of bread and water. Believe in the invisible. Have an unshakeable faith in the existence of the soul, yours and the person you write for. If people call your writing religious because of this, so be it. Find others who have made or are on the same journey and cherish them as fellow travelers. Rejoice in their effort as if it were your own. There is no room for envy on this trip. Build a harbor to protect your gift, but make sure your daily catch comes from the open ocean. Find a job that can be friends with and not jealous of your vocation. If you are fortunate enough to make a living from your writing, you’ll need to be even more attentive to your calling, for its voice is hard to hear amidst the clanging of praise. Be lighthearted but don’t forget the seriousness of it all. The tragedy and glory of life is that it can be squandered and loss and waste are real. Be humble. Let your vocation be a prayer no one hears but you. Important as your writing is, it is not your whole purpose. Most of all, be open to love and be grateful for it in whatever form it comes. And if love doesn’t come, love nevertheless. Love, its gladness and its pain, will show you what the world most needs.

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