visual cues & BINT
tiny ritual & poetry review, on each full moon
hello.
I’m glad to catch some moments to write you at the tail end of this blue moon! It’s been a busy month, in which I’ve returned again and again to a practice of trust, even as rupture after rupture pulls me out of practice. It’s my desire to come back always to trust in communal care, to trust in justice that is on its own timeline, and to trust in the pleasure and power of creativity.
tiny review
Ghinwa Jawhari’s debut chapbook, BINT بنت, is indeed “for the girls.” This lean collection is bursting with desire (“what are the words for too festive, / too happy, like lying // eyes closed in grass, ears to the birds?”) while it reckons with worth (“my father pays the surgeon to return me / a bint. in an hour i am unruined, regirled”), all against the backdrop of intergenerational wars (“infested with boy soldiers, mites, refugees, leap from one land / lord to another”) and everyday violence (“halal insisted in red coils no wrongdoing”). Desire is privately cultivated, while worth changes as the speaker’s identity changes (“without consent my small body erred / into hair-tainted womanhood, polluted me / with breasts”). At each turn, from bint-self (“when you had the sterile body of a child / you were loved by your father”) to woman-self (“i detached my hand & gave it to him, a fishing / lure”), patriarchal forces loom in an environment that’s eerily ever-stifled (“our neighbors cannonballed into a plastic / pool no larger than the dining table. the grass / flattened beneath, a yellow crop circle come fall”). Each line in this chapbook sings, each poem is a pearl.
tiny ritual
Clients of mine will often point towards a particular task being particularly frustrating. I’m sure we all have these kinds of things. Some frustration is probably unavoidable. But if a task feels really bad on the regular, that’s worth some consideration. A lot of times, things don’t actually have to feel as bad as all that. Small, intentional, intelligent, creative shifts can help us find some more space and ease where we didn’t see it at first.
For instance, I realized that whenever I calendar time to write, it feels really terrible. My throat and chest tighten when I write “write” on my digital calendar. That calendar holds appointments and events and all sorts of other things. And for me, writing time is in a totally different paradigm from that other important, but different, stuff. And yet, I’ve been writing “write” on my calendar for decades, like a ding dong. I remembered recently that sometimes I’d give young students with impulse control three post-its on their desk at the start of a class: each one allowing for one blurt-out during a class. So they had a tactile, visual cue as a container, and also the agency of choice and a chance to develop self-management skills. They could choose what and when to blurt, but they only get three. And we could debrief how it all went and what they were noticing and feeling in the process.
So in the spirit of part of me being a child lacking impulse-control, I’ve been giving myself four post-its on my desk at the start of each lunar month - each one representing a long (~4 hour) chunk of time to write/make. I can use them when I want, and the visual reminder is there, reminding me I’ve got a quota, but without the tightly scheduled time frame. This particular strategy of visual cues might work for you too, but performing the strategy really isn’t the point. The change for me happened when I finally listened to the feeling of tightness I’d noticed every time I wrote “write” in a time slot, and finally asked myself how else I might move with this desire for more writing time.
Writing prompt: Put four visual cues in a room you frequent — kitchen, bedroom, office, wherever. These visual cues can be post-its or rocks or old figurines or empty boxes of Peanut M&Ms or anything else. Over the course of the next week, or month, at any time you choose grab one cue, and write about/from desire. Continue, until you’ve used up all four.
workshops & offerings
MAKE Time, June — Each Wednesday morning, gather in good company for creative writing & simple somatic and meditative practices Open-ended prompts, with often thrilling results! All genres, all people, all experience levels welcome. See what others love, and register here. (No one turned away for lack of funds!)
Solar Year: Commit increased energy and communal care to your book project! Whether you’re at the very beginning of making a new (or first) book, or deep in the trenches of the middle, this every-four-week gathering helps you generate momentum and cultivate clarity as you move through your own unique creative process. The core of our solar year is our 13 meetings and our culminating performance, but there are additional optional supports all along the way, including solidarity groups, manuscript swaps, and weekly unstructured writing sessions. Hear more about how “Solar Year lit something up in me” and register here.
Late Spring Seeding: A few hours for new and returning workshop participants to pause, clarify, and envision, so that you can move forward well with your creative projects. The more I work with artists and writers, the more I know how important it is to prioritize reflection and re-centering. In this Spring Seeding, expect to connect with your body and breath, clarify your intentions and creative plans for the months ahead, and share with and be inspired by others. Give yourself this time to intentionally seed your creative projects for the months ahead. Details here.
1-1 Somatic Creative Coaching: ongoing meaningful individual support for writers and artists who want to expand a creative practice or finish a challenging project. Each coaching cycle is uniquely tailored to you. Each of us writers and artists needs someone to check in regularly and meaningfully with along the way. Coaching supports you not only in staying accountable to your goals, but even more importantly, in listening deeply to yourself, and in identifying, understanding and trusting your inner wisdom. Book an exploration call today.
If you’re finished drafting a book, chapbook, essay, or artist book, and ready for a manuscript consultation to support your revision and next steps, check out testimonials, and get in contact here.
Thank you for reading these full moon missives. Paid subscribers help me sustain the work of writing these monthly reviews and rituals. If you follow along, and get something out of these prompts and rituals, I appreciate your support in the form of a monthly coffee via a paid subscription. As an additional thank you, you’ll also receive: 1. access to the full archives of reviews, rituals, and writing prompts; 2. a complimentary download with core somatic practices and creative writing prompts, and 3. access to Open Hours (affordable members-only sliding-scale 1-1 sessions to discuss your writing questions). Your support goes a long way, and I’m grateful for it.
events & new releases
I’ll be reading from my Twin Peaks-inspired essay in The Weird Sister Collection at this delightfully weird event - come through!
Celebrate the third cohort of Solar Year at our in-person reading in Ridgewood (NYC) on June 7! We’ll also be holding an online reading on June 3 at 8pm. Join on June 3 at: bit.ly/solar-year or in person on June 7:
I love these poems by Nat Mesnard, one of which was workshopped in the last ALTER workshop :)
sending care,
emily
def going to try this post-it thing! thank you!
I’ve never heard of the post-it approach! I’ll definitely be giving that a try. Thank you!