What Lies Beneath the Surface of Your Life?

Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

[Ep 174] In last week’s interview, Patrice Gopo described the stories that bubbled up inside her—personal stories about topics she cared deeply about as she grappled with her identity and where she fit in society. Patrice grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, as a black American daughter of Jamaican immigrants. She wanted to explore that, to make sense of it all. How? Through writing. She turned to the essay to figure out her life, to delve into her experiences—to discover self and live a more meaningful life We, too, can delve into our experiences, diving beneath the surface to discover ourselves and live more meaningful lives. Elizabeth Lesser writes in Broken Open: If we don’t listen to the voice of the soul, it sings a stranger tune. If we don’t go looking for what lies beneath the surface of our lives, the soul comes looking for us. I haven’t read Lesser’s book, but that line urging us to look for what lies beneath the surface of our lives? We can use writing to do just that: to look for what lies beneath and listen to the voice of the soul. Capture Ideas It starts with an image, perhaps, or an interaction that bubbles up—a scene or memory. Pay attention to each one. Capture in detail this scene or image. You can do this on the spot or during a writing session later. Add sensory details. Try to recreate it objectively. That helps to examine and explore the meaning in it. If you don’t have time to write at that instant, jot down in a notebook a key word or phrase that can serve as a reminder or prompt. When you settle in to write it out in more detail, you’ll have many to choose from. Anne Lamott captures these snatches on 3x5 cards she carries in her pocket. Patrice uses a simple composition notebook tucked in her bag. I use Evernote or Google Keep. Ask Why? When you write—when you start to dive in and look beneath the surface—be curious about yourself, about that scene or image or snatch of dialogue. Why am I remembering that moment my dad grazed his leg with the chainsaw? Why does the sensation of flying back and forth in the swing keep coming back to me? Why does that glass doorknob make me tear up? Patrice says that when we're trying to understand what's happening in our lives or in the world—when we delve deeply into an incident to see its significance and why it matters—that’s meaning-making on the page. The incident could be big or small. As an example, Patrice said she noted in her journal that a couple of weeks ago her husband brought her a chocolate bar. It occurred to her he's been bringing her chocolate bars throughout their entire marriage. Why? Why are these chocolate bar moments over the years coming to mind? Why does he bring them? It seems small, but it’s rising to the surface. She’s listening to the voice of her soul. She pulled out her composition book and started writing some of the other scenes and memories, all because she was struck by that recurring image of a chocolate bar. She doesn’t know the answer yet; the meaning is unclear. For now, she’s exploring it. We can do that, too. We can write scenes and reflect. Let’s let curiosity and a sense of discovery lead us. Stay open as you listen to the voice of the soul; look for what lies beneath the surface of your life. You Don’t Need an Outline or Plan Thanks to our early academic training in the essay form, it’s tempting to set out with a thesis and outline our way into understanding, theme, and meaning. Resist...at least, at first. Anne Lamott, in a podcast interview for "Books of Your Life with Elizabeth," says not to worry about outlines. There’s that old saying that you can’t get lost if you don’t have a destination. People are always saying, “Don’t you have an outline?” And I say, “No, I don’t know what I’m doing. How would I be able to do an outline? I’ll find out what I’m doing by doing the writing.” Start writing without knowing what you’re doing or where you’re going.