Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Leaving the Impact Zone

So, the story goes…

A man with a boat gets a call about Hawaii’s tsunami warning, letting him know he needs to move his vessel.  There is no safe harbor.  The best course of action is counter-intuitive:  take his boat out to sea.  So the seaman motors further out into the ocean, spending the night on the vast, tumultuous water.

This story is told by the boat man’s mother, who was up all night afraid for her son’s life.  By morning, he and the boat had made it through the surges just fine.

Would the boat have tried to position itself in the safety of the harbor, it may have run aground in the receding waters or been smashed to pieces with the ensuing tidal swell.  Clinging to the shore was dangerous.  The most wise move was to leave the shelter of the harbor and forge out to meet the waves.  He needed to travel to depths so far that the boat would simply float among the surges.

In my own emotional fathoms, I sense the tendency to want to stick close to familiar shores.  But it’s true that though the shoreline may feel familiar, I’m lingering right in the impact zone.  Could it be that the more I hold on, resisting the deep unknown sea of me, the more I get tossed about in the white water wash?  It’s dark and deep and scary out there.  Do I dare move toward the unpredictable when all systems have declared a massive wave of unknown proportions is on its way?  Is being vulnerable really the safest move?

The seaman says yes.  Cruise right out there and float.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Thank God for Heartbreak…

…such a wealth for writing!

And just in case any of the handful of loyal readers to the Archives may be wondering, my present state of mind (and heart) is fine and well.  That last Imprint post may have been a little heavy, but truth be told, if I was actually in the deepest throes of that wallow it never would have made it on to WordPress.  It took a year to write about dead grass from a king-size tent and crying in a towel.  It may take another year to laugh about it.

But maybe not that long after all.  Because once you give the story words, in many ways, it leaves you.  And not the melancholy leaving of an airport goodbye.  More like the freedom found in flight with real-life feathers.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

“Just give it away!” said Lisa Goettel in my ‘Rise Up Singing’ workshop.  Her hands gesturing out from her body like she was slinging her very essence across the room.  She was speaking of our voices and letting them free.  No holding back.  No hoarding.  No saving for a rainy day.

Rainy days will come and go but our deepest well will never dry.  Tap this place and share, because we know there is abundance.  The replenishing fathoms of our feeling hearts.  Our expanding throats filled with a kaleidoscope of tones.  Our words gush forth, seeping forgotten crevices and tangling with ancient roots in terra firma.  This soil is fertile in forever.  Just give it away!

So thank you to all the bringers of broken promises.  All those that told untruths.  There is gratitude to every footfall that walked further from my doorstep.  You gave me the chance to love and give it away.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reservedf