When I was just out of college, I embarked on a trip to California to "find myself." (Why is it that everyone seems to go to California to find herself?) I guess I thought the hunt would be easier in the warm weather. Well, did I accomplish this task? Yes and no. The "yes" is, when I got there I spent many days and nights sitting in outdoor cafes drinking coffee and writing in my journal. The "no" is that instead of finding a new self (and this, by the way, was a visual idea I had, I thought somehow this new self would emerge before me as if it had been beamed down from the Heaven of Lost Souls) I found through the writing that I was boring down into the center of my old self. What I discovered is that I wasn't really looking for a new self, I was looking for a way to connect to who I already was. I was looking for my core.

So what does all this have to do with writing? Everything. Writing is a tool to help you explore your core, a way for you to bore into the center and find out who you are and what you are all about. All the writing and reading we will be doing in this class revolves around the shaping of identity. I know of no greater pursuit.

Writing has helped shape my identity enormously, especially writing poetry. Quite honestly, I don't know where I would be today if I couldn't write poetry. Maybe R-wing. Really, it helps me examine my core, it gives me the courage to explore the dark areas, and it offers me an outlet to free myself from the burdens of living. Anne Lamott, author of a fantastic book on writing called Bird by Bird, talks about the insanity that can develop if we aren't allowed to write down what is going on with us. She uses the metaphor of dogs in a pen as the insanity and says, "let's not forget the dogs, the dogs in their pen who will surely hurtle and snarl their way out if you ever stop writing, because writing is, for some of us, the latch that keeps the door of the pen closed, keeps those crazy ravenous dogs contained."

Here's a little writing story that just happened to me recently. Last year I turned 40 years old (a big day for me since I have never turned 40 before!) Well, I was quite melancholy about it, sort of slumping around the house. I didn't know exactly how I was feeling. It was a combination of loss, anticipation, and fear. For some reason, forty seemed to me the beginning of the end (what end I don't know), but I felt something churning inside. I tried to reason with myself, talk to myself, but nothing seemed to work.

Then one night quite late, I was up pacing around. I looked out the window at my backyard. It had just snowed, an early snow, and there were still leaves on the trees. Some of these leaves had fallen on top of the snow and were sort of standing up, waving like hands. It was a very bizarre image, but instantly I knew that those leaves had something to do with my turning forty. So I hauled out my notebook and started to write. I wrote for several hours and as each hour passed, I felt better and better. Writing was helping me to discover what was going on in my core, at the center of my being. What a release it gave me.

Now don't get me wrong, I didn't just write a beautiful poem in those two hours. I began a writing process that actually spanned several weeks. First, I wrestled with my melancholy, I had to feel something crying within me, I had to feel the surges that were growing in my soul. Next, I used my journal to explore those feelings, shed some light on what was going on. I liken my journal to a flashlight in the dark - it helps me to see. Next, I looked at what I had written and changed every line over and over until it said exactly what I wanted to say in exactly the way I wanted it to say it. After that, I took out a book and read other writers just to get some distance and to see how other writers write (not to copy, more to align myself with others who are writing. It comforts me to think of us all in the same boat, paddling hard). Finally, I proofread and edited my piece, making sure all the mechanics were in order.

As it turns out, I wrote a great poem about turning forty that freed me from the fear and anticipation of the experience so that I was able to move on into the experience and actually enjoy it. And I am. So far. I'll let you know! Being able to write poetry about who I am propels me forward into new challenges.

Into self knowledge. Into the darkness and lightness of my heart.

Into my identity. It helps me to discover just who I am.

And what. And where. And when. And why I am.