How to shift your mood: Do something!
My mood
One day last week, my mood was dark, irritable, sad. I couldn’t shake it. It sat on my shoulder like a cloud, feelings heavy enough to push me off kilter. That evening, despite my mood, I was obliged to attend my monthly online ‘writing for pleasure’ group because I host the Zoom sessions — and I’m so glad I did, because the group’s presence on my screen and the writing that the session inspired quite shifted my mood, and I was reminded, once again, how true it is what my friend Karen said many years ago: “I can shift my mood by putting on lively music and dancing in the living room.” She might not have said the dancing part, but the music part she definitely said. For me, that evening last week, the music was the company of my fellow writers; the dancing was the writing that the session’s leader invited us to do. All day I had shunned company, avoided connection, tuned out by going online for nonsense. But that evening, the very thing I thought I hadn’t wanted turned out to be exactly what I needed: company, connection, creativity.
This won’t be news to anyone with enough self-awareness to know that sometimes we actively deeply need the company and connection of other humans. Being alone exacerbates our dim mood, while being together shifts it towards the light. Not always: Sometimes being alone and quiet and solitary — and maybe even dark — is exactly the ticket for me, and maybe for you, too. But other times, the energy and community found in small groups of sympathetic humans can (re)ignite in me the spirit and the flame of being alive to the world, of being alive in the world, and, maybe most importantly, of relishing being alive and present and creating in the world.
My writing
I often say that I write to be read; but I acknowledge a freedom in writing purely for the joy of it, as we do sometimes at our monthly ‘writing for pleasure’ sessions. Sometimes, we only talk about our writing rather than doing it, which brings its own insights and rewards. But in this most recent session, Jodi, the session leader, gave us prompts to spark our writing. Below, I share both pieces I wrote; they are not spectacular but they would not exist had I not attended that session. Neither is polished, but both pieces are dear to me because the writing of them shifted my mood that evening, took me out of myself in the company of fellow writers, and nudged me back into my creative self engaging in this world through words and stories. The value is in the process, not the product.
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The first piece on ‘being awkward’ surprised me as it flowed onto the page; the second one about the weather (!) was fun for where it took me — here and there. Neither was planned; each was written in just ten minutes of free writing without editing or pausing.
Writing prompt 1: Tell us how you are awkward
(this piece is autobiographical)
I am awkward as an older woman and I was awkward as a child and a younger woman. I made up for that internal feeling by learning first to be charming (as a not-yet-10-year-old, handing round appetizers at my parents’ dinner parties), then how to be loud — take up space by swearing (as a younger adult woman). The remnant British accent or inflection that I retain from being raised by parents of British origin helps lend my swearing an impressive and, maybe, imposing overtone. I have startled many an unsuspecting colleague with a well placed “FUCK!” Nothing like the F word to throw a spark, a notice, a weight into an otherwise stalled context — board room, board table, board meeting — also, bored room, bored table, bored meeting.
I am awkward in my sense of self, which I can minimize if I hold a role that should not be awkward, that should be the opposite, should be bold and strong. I do not struggle with lack of clarity. I am clear within myself about myself and what I offer. Rather, it is me, the essence of Amanda who feels awkward. But, give me a role — I think, more than a title — a role to be, to act, to do, then my awkward self fades and my agented self emerges.
I have stood in front of crowds at demos and marches, held a bull horn to make loud my voice, have spoken into many a microphone — these props, those tools, they help move my awkwardness to the shadows and bring my other — my real self? — to the fore.
I am awkward and I am also agented. I am complex and fierce and I want more not less space in this world and I will work to claim it despite the awkward feelings that lurk in the corners, still.
I am 64. When will there be no awkwardness in me? I wonder. And I work…
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Writing prompt 2: “Remember to get the weather in your ... damned book – weather is very important.” an Ernest Hemingway tip on writing
(this piece is a lot more fiction than autobiography)
Oh god, the weather, not the weather, don’t talk about the weather! But weather is small talk, is the door open to bigger things, to politics and sex and belief and friendship and more. The weather outside has an impact on the weather indoors.
When it’s sunny and warm and lovely outside, the walls of the house become more flimsy, move beyond open windows / slammed screen doors / dashing down the steps in sandals…
When it’s dark and cold and stormy outside, the walls of the house become strong and firm, encircling those inside its warmth and safety.
There are, of course, places where the weather outside is as bad as the weather inside — the temperature of the family or just the people inside.
Inside bad weather is loud — either with voices and fists and maybe even with shattered bones and shed blood — or with silence so heavy and brooding it muffles even the shallow breath of those trying to be invisible.
Weather. Temperature. Sun. Hot. Wind. Cold. Rain. Snow. It’s all awkward, it’s all important.
Don’t forget the damn weather. It sets the stage. Hell. It is the stage. It determines the clothes, the food, the mood, the action. No story exists without or beyond the weather. (Ernest, I think you’re right.)
It comes from the sky and it lands on the earth and whoever is there gets it full on in the face and their story reflects the weather.
Don’t forget his temper, dear. Keep him calm. Just do as he says. Don’t rile him up. Just be quiet. You know how he hates them crying. Don’t let them cry. Don’t make him angry. Don’t let him hit you.
Don’t forget your hat darling. You don’t want the sun to reach your face. A lady should have pale skin …
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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.
Stormy sky Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Sun through trees Photo by Micah Hallahan on Unsplash
Most excellent dammit!
ReplyDeleteI love both these pieces of writing, Amanda. Very fluid and incredibly well written for just 10 minutes without polishing. The wonderful evidence of constant practice!
ReplyDeleteThis is a good reminder of our shared humanity and the ways we shift in and out of moods that feel good or less so, how our lives intersect in meaningful ways that we may not be aware of and the tools we can use to shift and cope. Thank you for writing and sharing. Jodi💕
ReplyDelete"Don’t forget his temper, dear. Keep him calm. Just do as he says. Don’t rile him up. Just be quiet. You know how he hates them crying. Don’t let them cry. Don’t make him angry. Don’t let him hit you." Where did that come from? Ouch, that smacked me right in my memories.
ReplyDeleteVery well written and you're very brave. When I feel awkward I hide.
Amanda, I enjoyed both pieces for each of their own saying. Solidity, sound, and open. Thank you for sharing these with your readers.
ReplyDelete