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Tag: Ernest Hemingway

Broken

I Would Never

My mom and I visited The Hemingway House in 2015.

For someone who judged Ernest Hemingway’s character pretty harshly, I feel like I quote him often in blog posts.

The longer I live, the more I see I’m in no position to judge another person for anything ever. I believe we’re capable of making the same life choices if given the same set of circumstances, decisions that either enrich or bring destruction to our lives.

We tend to sit in judgment of other people based on our experiences, not theirs. We’re all just humans being humans. No one is without reproach.

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” ― Ernest Hemingway

A Farewell to arms
Hemingway’s writing studio and safari trophy room

Are You Broken?

Three years ago, when I was going through an especially tough time, my wise friend, Linda Pritcher posed the question, “Are you broken?”

I felt very broken.

“Do you look at other people and think, ‘They are broken.'”

My answer was no.

I don’t see anyone as broken beyond repair. They aren’t broken, just a little cracked.

This made me think about the Japanese art form Kintsugi, where the cracks in a once-perfect pottery piece are filled with gold, making that pottery one of a kind and more valuable than it was to begin with.

We are kind of like pottery. We’re born perfect and collect cracks as we grow.

Conversations with Linda always leave me uplifted. That day was no exception. For as long as I held onto the thought that I was just like everyone else, I was able to show myself grace. Over the years I ended up forgetting this truth.

I’m going to write down I AM NOT BROKEN. I’m going to stick it somewhere I can be reminded of often.

Bringing It Full Circle

I was having a discussion with a friend about some messy situations in my life. I’ve felt so broken over the last few months. So hopeless. This stronger at the broken places quote came to mind.

Ernest and Pauline

Through personal examination of the quote and my previous feelings of accusation against Ernie H, I’ve discovered that Sarah Boucher and Ernest Hemingway are more alike than we are different. I’m no better than him. When put to the test, I could easily take some of the same paths he took if I’d had his childhood, teenage experiences, friends, marriages, so on and so forth.

Someone in my shoes would’ve made similar choices as I have.

If I were in your circumstances, I’d most likely make many of the same choices you’ve made.

You and I are the same. We are not broken people, just cracked, and there’s a neverending supply of gold to fill said cracks, to make us stronger at our broken places.

My mom told me years ago, “You are neither more valuable nor less valuable than anyone else.”

Bill Cumming, my friend, and mentor would later reinforce this lesson. I would encourage you to visit Bill’s and Linda’s websites. They are both wonderful resources.

Oh, and Mr. Hemingway, I feel I owe you an apology.

The Sixth Sense

Ernest Hemingway, I see you.

Something New

“Now I’m going to write something new.”

As I typed the words into the Facebook messenger box, where I’ve done the majority of my writing the last couple of years, I felt a rush of energy.

Now, I’m going to write something new.

A few years ago, I declared I would be like Hemingway.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” -Ernest Hemingway

For whatever reason, I’ve still been extremely guarded with what I share.  So guarded that I haven’t been sharing at all. Some of that is to protect my mom.  I love that woman a lot and if I share where I’m at in my thinking and the mistakes I’ve made along the way, she’ll surely worry herself sick.

She and I had a conversation about it one night. I stood by her bed and told her how much I admired other writers who write from their hearts. Mom’s thought was that being guarded is responsible. I’m not fully convinced.  

I realize I don’t need to run amuck and write my personal tabloid, but I do need to be true to who I am.  If that means an overshare here or there to drive home a point or connect with other humans, so be it.

Part of my holding back is because my story is entwined with other peoples’ stories and I want to respect their privacy.

Part of this guardedness is self preservation.  I don’t want haters and trolls puking their wrath on me.

I’m going to have to get over most of this if I’m ever going to be transparent.

I love transparency.  It’s so PURE. It’s so necessary. I appreciate people who live this way. I’m going to work on not being so afraid and when the time is right, I’ll share my mess.

“If you’re going to share widely, make sure you share from your scars, not from your open wounds.” -Glennon Doyle

I almost had myself convinced I’d forgotten how to write.

Now, I’m going to write something new.  

That statement feels like a fresh start.  I’m not just sitting down to write a new post tonight.  I can decide right now to create something new with my life.  

I wrote a post when my ex and I were separating about how my life was going to be different this time as compared to our separation in 2012.  You can read This Time It’s Going To Be Different here.

If I’m being honest, life hasn’t gone according to plan.  I had some great goals back then, but I didn’t keep them in view and ended up losing sight of my vision.

Maybe…maybe I don’t want to write something new tonight.  Maybe I want to focus on what’s already been written…because all of that was and still is my heart’s desire.  And I really believe I can make it happen.

Now I’m going to write something new…  

Pardon Me While I Bleed

I Am A Powerful WomanMy writer friend, Caroline Madison recently shared her opinion about transparency in writing memoirs.

“The truth is hard sometimes, but steering clear of it, walking on eggshells because it’s easier than turning the tides and moving forward, is a cop out.”

I have to tell you, I’ve been a little shocked by some of the personal details Brave Caroline shares, like her parents’ flaws or struggles in her marriage.  “I could NEVER write that!” I’ve thought.

I feel a strong desire to protect everyone; my kids, my husband, my parents, my secrets, and to keep your opinion of me solid, that is if your opinion of me is a good one.

One reason I can’t write openly is because I don’t want to spark a debate.  This pertains mostly to thoughts on religion and God.  I really just want you to agree with everything I write and say, “Me too,” or, “Well said,” so I barely say anything at all, to stay in favor with you.

Ernest Hemingway (who I initially loathed, but on further reflection have decided to cut him a little slack, what with him being human and all) wrote, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Caroline Madison bleeds when she writes.  Elizabeth Gilbert bleeds when she writes.  Glennon Doyle Melton BLEEDS when she writes.

I stay away from all sharp objects.  I can’t afford to bleed and that’s why my writing and my posts have been as dull as plastic knives in a Little Tikes kitchen.

I join the tens of critics (family members and Facebook friends who I imagine shudder every time I put myself out there with a new post or a silly video) in wondering what exactly it is that I’m up to in the world.  Why do I keep embarrassing myself?

I don’t even know.  I’ve lost sight of the reason.  I’ve lost my passion, my vision.  I’ve become lukewarm in almost every area of my life.  I am a freaking people pleaser and I’m getting less and less okay with that (except I still want everyone to like me.)

I’m hiding behind so many layers that I can’t even find myself these days.

So bare with me, while I attempt to peel back these layers, rediscover my passion, and begin to bleed.

Does anybody have a band-aid?

Glennon Doyle Melton, courage, Love Warrior

Thanks for reading!  Also, my little blurb at the bottom of the post has been updated, so please read. Thanks again!

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