from the Inside
an e-zine for writers with heart
that means YOU!
are all writers, we all have heart and there are many forms to practice
writing, journal writing, story writing, your own "story tale"
and much, much more.
intention of this e-zine is to provide inspiration, information and
stories to aid in:
YOUR OWN WISDOM WITHIN
TAPPING INTO THE WORK YOU'RE HERE TO DO
YOUR STORY - RECOGNIZING THE THREADS THAT MAKE YOU YOU!
by Lissa Ann Forbes
DAY IS ONLY THREE WEEKS AWAY!
TO CELEBRATE THE FIRST MAN IN YOUR LIFE.
can look forward to the next issue of Write from the Inside on June 19,
#24: May 29, 2005
You Stop Short?
your reaction when you see someone at the highway exit, begging for
bother to find out the names of those who serve you—food
servers, the folks at the copy service, cashiers at the grocery
store. Do you call them by name?
you ever thought something nice about someone and neglected to
I was out to dinner with my writing friend, Shirley. As I sat chatting
and enjoying the best Chinese food in town, I noticed a woman with short
snow-white hair, glasses and a turquoise top. Although I was enjoying my
friend's company immensely, my gaze continued to gravitate to the
charming, classy lady at the next table. She reminded me of my Mom, gone
for many years now. I made a decision. As Shirley and I left, I stopped
to in front of the woman who had caught my eye, "Excuse me, I
didn't mean to stare at you, but you are a stunning woman and
remind me of my mother who died nine years ago." Tears welled up in
her eyes behind the thick wire-rimmed glasses and with a gentle smile
she said, "Thank you, that is very nice of you." I made her
day and she made mine.
the stock clerk at your local WalMart that you realize we take for
granted how all those items get on the shelves, perfectly aligned,
for us to come find exactly what we need day after day and thank him
for the terrific job he does.
what happens when you do. Notice the look on his face. Listen to his
response. Contemplate how it might boost him up.
attention to how it makes you feel. Then get it all down on paper so
you can remember.
ease another's heartache is to forget one's own."
in the Garbage Pail
Lissa Ann Forbes
it's good to write about yourself as if you're someone else. You then
have the freedom to imagine what it might be like to do things you don't
normally do, to think about things you've never considered. It gives you
the opportunity to be creative.
the silver strip at the top of his fresh pack of Marlboro Light’s, he
walked toward the garbage can in front of the small town quick mart. As
he threw the plastic wrap and piece of silver paper from the cigarette
pack in the trash he noticed the circles of white wrapped in plastic.
His stomach grumbled having missed breakfast. He thought of the
waste. Contemplated his shortage of funds. He remembered these powdered
sugar mini-donuts were his mother’s favorite. His mouth watered to
have a taste, but he walked away, climbing into his car to enjoy the
springtime warmth and sunshine on the drive home.
His concern was, where did they come from, who had touched them,
how old were they? Suddenly, his thoughts shifted. A homeless man or
woman would not consider these things. They would be diving into that
barrel with nary a thought but to fill an aching stomach.
He imagined, what would it be like to be without a home?
The picture unfolds in his mind.
The first day’s not so bad. It’s spring. I take a walk
until I find a park where the flowers are in bloom—red tulips, yellow
daffodils, and a carpet of white alyssum. And oh, those beautiful trees
with the pink blossoms. I sit on the park bench and watch the children
play and listen to their gurgling laughter. Then take a nap on the green
carpet that stretches out before me.
When I wake up, there’s a little blonde girl in a pink shirt
and purple shorts sitting beside me on the bench. Her big blue eyes
sparkling, "Would you like to share my cookie?" she asks. I
don’t want to seem overly enthusiastic, but I say, “yes, that would
be nice” because it's possible this will be dinner. It will be dark
soon and I will have to find a place to sleep.
I wonder, how did this happened? It seems like just yesterday I
was living the life of Riley. I had a home, a car and plenty of
food—in fact, I had plenty for my friends too. But I lost my job,
couldn’t get work even though I tried diligently—for a while. Then
the demons crept in. Those little black creatures that climb into your
brain when you’re not looking. The ones that say, see I told you
you’d never make it, I told you no one would hire you with your
outdated skills, no one will see what you’ve been trying to build in
that garage carpentry business. The demons ate away at my confidence, at
my sense of capability, ate away my dreams. And now I’m just a speck
that the world sidesteps in its whirling quest for bigger, better,
The sun sets against the mountains. It’s bright yellow light
turns to orange, then pink and just as the sun hides behind the top peak
of the expanse of those magnificent Rocky Mountains, a swirl of purple
I have only the clothes on my back—blue jeans, T-shirt, socks,
shoes, underwear, a denim shirt and a flannel-lined windbreaker. And a
backpack, notebook, pen and water bottle and one dollar in change in my
pocket. I must find a place sheltered from the chill that comes when
that glorious sun goes down. A place they won’t kick me out of for the
vagrant I’ve become. I must keep moving.
It’s dark now. My stomach rumbles, but I’m still strong. Just
need a bit of rest. I hide in the alley behind the coffee shop I used to
frequent in my affluent days. Hoping they’ve thrown out some muffins
or cookies or nut bread they had left over at the end of the day, I pick
through the dumpster and hit pay dirt—leftover quiche, two whole
pieces—a bit squished but it looks edible. I curl up in the dark
corner and shovel in what I have salvaged.
Unfortunately, I know tomorrow won’t be better. More of the
same stretches out before me like the never-ending highway that
disappears into the horizon.
He arrives home with the resolve that this will never happen to
him. It’s time to get cracking; make those follow-up phone calls
he’s intended to make for weeks to potential clients, finish the
projects that are leaving money on the table if not completed, and think
about alternatives to letting his life slip away, threatening to break
him. He doesn’t want to be that homeless man of his imaginings. He’s
got far too much to offer this world. And how they would be missing out.
Resource: Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski
and a friend, Sam, chose to make an unlikely journey, since they were
both relatively affluent college students, as homeless men through five
American cities; Washington, D.C., Portland, San Francisco, Phoenix, and
San Diego. Mike captures some poignant details of life on the street,
how it is to be shunned because of how one looks, how one smells, and
what one doesn't have. He shares the extent of alcohol and drug
addiction among the homeless as well as the frequency of mental illness.
He talks about searching for food, a place to rest, and bathrooms and
water. Things most of us take from granted. But his overriding purpose
was to determine if one could still have faith in God when one has
nothing. Yes, how easy it is to have faith when you have all you need.
But he learned that ultimately his faith and prayers were answered.
a rather simple account of his experiences, I found this book
enlightening and inspirational. Even though Mike and Sam experienced
hardships that I can't imagine enduring, there were moments of grace,
when they received abundantly, whether it was money for playing their
guitars and singing, or simply because another human being saw a need
and chose out of true kindness to answer the call. On occasion a meal
was provided or a collection was taken up at a church to provide for bus
fare to the next city. Something to contemplate—how
often do we stop short, turn away or close our eyes. This book opened my
it time to record his stories?
a good place to start.
Add a custom journal to
the Write from the Inside
Booklet and a Can Your Life: The Key to Self-Preservation
audio tape and you get a Catch Your Life Stories Starter Kit. The
booklet and tape will help trigger memories, show how to capture the
details and entertain and inform, and the journal is a place to get it
details click here:
be patient while downloading.
view this document you will need Adobe Acrobat Reader V.5.0.5 or higher.
You may download it using this link:
Write from the Inside
booklet: 14 Triggers for catching those ever elusive, fleeting thoughts,
insights and memories—36 pages of memory sparkers for writing life
stories. $10.00 ea.
Can Your Life: The Key to
audio tape: tools including a guided meditation and stories from my own
life to inspire, motivate, entertain and inform on the craft of catching
life stories and creating a
life treasure. $15.00 ea.
folks are saying:
I have heard or read many of the stories, I loved hearing you tell them.
YOU DO GREAT WORK!"
Crosby, Key Partners, Rock Hill, SC
voice and presentation are wonderfully apt for this type of outreach,
Lissa, and your positive message(s) can only be of help to those who
receive your tapes."
Washburn, Goose Wings Passages, Greensboro, NC
place to keep your memories ...
your very own journal TODAY!
Have a custom journal made
YOU or a loved one!
the web site:
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can help you create your
the web site:
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love to speak to your group about Catching Life Stories.
me TODAY to set a date. 303-885-0652
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Copyright © 2005 Lissa Ann Forbes.
All rights reserved.
Publishing History, One Life at a Time
PO Box 49, Lafayette, CO 80026
(B) 303-926-1890, (C) 303-885-0652
life legacy books and journals
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with Ease, Lafayette, CO
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