On Wilier Writing (and Wilco)

Alice in Wonderland, José de Creeft (1959). Central Park, New York City

I’m experimenting with a new form of writing. It reminds me of when I was living in India. Between 2006-2010, I felt safer to write and expose myself because I was quite literally 10,000 miles from California, my largest reader base. Distance gives a sort of psychological protection. When I returned to the U.S., I returned to writing from a different voice – yes, a strong voice – but one that didn’t feel as risky. I rarely wrote about my own direct life.

Last week, I took a risk by writing about my experience at the New York Public Library and my spiritual encounter with J.D. Salinger. This may not feel like a stretch to others – just reporting on the facts, of what I witness, stringing together the pieces of art and literature, non-duality and spirituality. But what I’ve noticed is that when I write from the heArt, it is vulnerable. When I write about things that blow me out of the water, whether an encounter with my spiritual teacher, or a piece of art, I feel vulnerable. I’ve let you see me – the personal me.

Once upon a time, many years ago, at a house party in San Francisco's Mission District, I was trying to explain this level of vulnerability in being a writer, to a Harvard-educated woman who is an actual crossword creator of The New York Times puzzle. While a different sort of writing, this woman knows her words. So, we had words.

She said to me, “The more personal, the more universal.” It struck such a strong chord I inscribed that line in my journal, and it traveled with me to India, where I tried to go as deep as I could in my “Bindi Girl” spiritual travel blog, to convey my experiences to the folks and readers back home.*

The Mad Hatter 'n Me, Central Park

Words with Wilco

Over Christmas on holiday in Hawaii, I read the book Let’s Go (So We Can Get Back) by the musician Jeff Tweedy, founding member of the indie-alt country-rock group Wilco. I’ve appreciated Wilco ever since seeing them live at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, on tour for their 2004 album A Ghost Is Born. I can still hear the beautiful guitar ruckus of the encore song, “Spiders (Kidsmoke),” smell the pungent herb wafting thru the airwaves, my SF buddies and I rocking out at the top of the outdoor concert forum under a clear moonlit sky. Music-loving heart exploding at the unleashing of distortion at all the right moments. Nights like that never leave us.

Jeff Tweedy of Wilco

Memoirs and autobiographies are my favorite genres – and rock and literary (and spiritual) memoirs are at the top of my list. So when I read Tweedy’s memoir, I was delighted to receive his wisdom on writing techniques, especially the following passage in which he describes how he learned to get to the juice, to pen the lyrics that make an impression and stick with us, even when we don’t know why:

"When I write in this mode, I write for myself first, pretending that the audience isn’t even there, and will never be there. I can get things off of my chest, I can invent versions of myself that are better than I believe I am . . . or worse, are even downright awful and murderous. I can expose shadow selves that I believe I should keep my eye on. I can admit things about myself without really having to take ownership of anything. Having it all feel private and insular creates a sense of authenticity I’m not sure I’m able to explain in an understandable way. It’s a trick I play to coax myself into being okay with exposing things that feel powerful and intimate because they’re the types of things people often hide about themselves, or even from themselves. This style of writing felt new and exciting, and even more so when it came to perfecting the songs and recording them." -Jeff Tweedy, Let's Go (So We Can Get Back): A Memoir of Recording and Discording with Wilco, Etc.

Woohoo! When I read that passage, I immediately highlighted it in my Kindle and noted to self: Yes, it’s time to get back to that kind of writing. Can I do it? Can I really do it? Write unedited and share it publicly? Pretend that no one is going to read it?

Well, since we’re publishing this on the Internet, no filter, I may not let it all rip, but I will certainly try…

NYC Taxi Cab Winter, 2020

Erin Reese is a modern psychic, non-dual teacher, author, and intuitive consultant based in the SF Bay Area. Erin has a Master of Science in Counseling and has been reading the Tarot for over thirty years. She works with personal clients, business executives, artists, and musicians all over the world.

In-Person Tarot Mastery Course, Fall 2019

Starts next Wednesday

Online Tarot Mentoring Group with Erin Reese

More info here.

EVENING SECTION:

Wednesdays, 7pm to 8:30pm Pacific.
Starts January 29^{th
Ends February 26th}

 Early Bird Pricing ends today!