Voice of the Spirit

Spill

  

Passion.

Emotion.

It’s what makes music so intoxicating…

And I’m convinced that when we are in the throes of being intoxicated with music and emotion, that’s when we open the door to the world of spirit and endless possibilities. (Many who experience Nirvana do so through music—there was even a band by that name.)

I’ve been to more than a few live concerts where the performers seemed merely to be going through the motions, as if they couldn’t wait to finish the job and get off the stage. That made me feel cheated because they weren’t giving it their all, especially since I’d spent my hard-earned dollars to see the show.

This goes for writing as well.

Over the course of working on DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD, I struggled with how much to reveal in my book. How did I maintain my privacy and still get my message across? I’m just an average person—this book is my soul—did I really want to let the whole world into my soul?

To say this is frightening would be a gross understatement.

The song “Pages,” by 3 Doors Down, explains it perfectly. What a great song.

My solution was simply to be vague about the things that were too personal or painful to talk about.

But my editor said, “Uh uh, sorry, you have to spill.”

Oh man, okay. Reluctantly, I added a little detail.

To this, she said, “Nope—take us there with you—give us all of it!”

I didn’t want to. Speaking out is an enormous responsibility. Once my words are out there, there’ll be no changing them—they’ll be public property forever.

As I fought my internal demons, I came across an article that dealt with this very thing. An author who wrote about her relationship with her daughter, also struggled with how much to say in her book—would she be betraying her daughter by telling the truth? After a lot of deliberation, she decided to be honest. The publication of her book was met with mixed reviews. Some criticized her for exposing her daughter’s personal information, but many more went to great lengths to thank her, saying that her story helped them improve their relationships with their own daughters.

It made sense to me that this was what I should do too, because the purpose of my book is also to help others improve their lives—but even reading about that woman didn’t completely convince me.

I trusted my editor’s professional opinion though, and worked diligently at dredging up horribly emotional and personal subjects like the deaths of my parents whom I adored, and the physical and sexual abuse I endured at the hands of a young man I married when I was no more than a kid myself. It was like pulling pure bile from my liver and splashing it on the page because I had to relive every detail all over again and analyze each one.

There’s also a candid sex scene in my book, and many instances where I question religion, the existence of God, supernatural phenomena, aliens, angels and the power of the mind and spirit. I know that some will criticize me—I may even lose a few friends over what I’ve said—but I just might gain a few too. In any case, I didn’t want to offend anyone.

Then I heard the song “Hooker with a Penis,” by Tool (warning—explicit content on this website). The song is about a fan who tells his idol that he thinks he’s selling out. But the idol says that he sold his soul long ago—just to make his music…

That truth sunk into me like rain into parched earth. Tool was right—it is about selling one’s soul. And my book is all about finding and living one’s truth. How could I sufficiently convey that message if I was too afraid to speak my truth—and yes, sell my soul in the process?

Because if artists don’t sell their souls, no one will be able to relate. It’s a tremendous price to pay—look at what happened to Michael Jackson, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison to name a few—but it’s also an area where there can be no compromise. The audience knows instantly when the artist is withholding something.

Soul is the difference between “outstanding” and “mediocre.” And in this instance, if one wants to make an impact, there’s no room for mediocre, because in the end, the audience will either feel inspired or cheated.

Depends on how much guts the artist has.

A Roger Ebert Story and an Excerpt from "Dance of the Electric Hummingbird"

One of my readers sent this to me recently and I wanted to share it with you, along with my reply to her. (She has given me her approval.) In her email, (I’m paraphrasing here) she told me that film critic Roger Ebert had recently appeared on the Oprah Show. For more than eight years, he’d been battling thyroid cancer that eventually spread to his salivary gland and jaw. Because of this, most of his lower jaw had been removed and it left him unable to speak or eat. He uses a computer into which he types what he wants to say and it replays the words.

Ebert wrote in his journal that the purpose of our lives is to make the lives of others a little happier and to make ourselves happier. Anything contrary to that is a travesty because unhappiness is the breeding ground for crime. He said that he didn’t always know this, but was glad that he has lived long enough to realize it.

When asked about his appearance, he replied that nobody is perfect and that we have to accept who we are and keep on living.

My reply to her email:

I hope most of us don't have to go through what he did to realize that what he says is true. Unfortunately all we have is our words to help us convince others of the things we know will improve their lives. Here's an excerpt for you from my book. The setting takes place in a coffee shop, where I'm talking to a famous poet. In this scene she has just finished reading some of my work.

Following is an excerpt from DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD. It’s from Chapter 28 — Beyond the Holes of Words:

“What exactly are you trying to say here?” She points to a line in my poem with her pen.

I fumble a bit, unsure of how to respond because I’ve sugarcoated my meaning. I take a sip of my mocha latte to stall. It tastes even better than before. I take another. Then I look around the small room—the walls are painted light pink and there are dark, wooden shelves displaying coffee products for sale. Three other customers sit in overstuffed chairs arranged facing one another near the windows. The entire atmosphere is one of warmth, relaxation, and trust. It seems to say, “Go ahead…”

I’m trying not to focus on the fact that Victoria is the perfect image of a teacher, which she is, after all, because in my mind, teachers had always been harbingers of doom. Of course, this is my own silly notion left over from my Catholic school days—Victoria is not dressed in a black and white nun’s habit. She’s wearing a floral print button-down blouse, impeccably ironed, and white pants, her grey hair cut short and neatly styled. Why do I do this to myself?

“Do you mean ‘vagina’?” Her soft-spoken manner seems contradictory to such frankness.

“Yes.” I’m quite caught off-guard.

“Then say ‘vagina.’” She crosses out what I’ve written and scribbles the word “vagina” with her red pen.

I take another sip of my latte, swallowing hard in an attempt to disguise the little smile creeping over my face.

She and I had become friends when I’d signed up for the Writing through Loss grief support group after my parents died. Over the years, I had attended several of her writing workshops and poetry readings, hoping to absorb as much knowledge from her as I could. And now she was the person in charge of the class I’d enrolled in.

During one of the sessions, as the group of mourners sat writing in our chairs, she quietly approached me.

“I really love your writing. I was wondering if you’d be interested in working with me on your poetry.”

“I’d be honored!” I was a little embarrassed because I wasn’t used to compliments like this. But I sorely needed help and direction with my writing, and professional advice. I had so much inside of me that I wanted to say and I wanted it to come out as art so others could relate, but sometimes I didn’t know quite how to say it. I didn’t want to offend anyone.

And now, sitting across from her, I realize that she’s not judging me. She’s treating me with respect for what it is I need to say as an artist. What ridiculous notion had convinced me that she would immediately reject me based on one word? I feel my body relax and I gain even more respect for her—this tiny woman with a big soul.

But I learned from an early age to care what others thought of me, which stemmed from my worrying about what God thought of me. Growing up I learned how not to bring attention to myself. I was always on the lookout for what others expected of me and strove to live up to their expectations. And the things the girls at school said about me hurt me deeply, so I knew that words had a lot of power. Prepubescent girls can be horribly cruel, but I never fought back; I couldn’t conceive of hurting anyone else on purpose, even if they'd hurt me first. It went completely against my nature.

So the words thing was obviously deeply ingrained in me. I was concerned that people would form the wrong opinion of me for that reason.

Thoreau said, “Say what you have to say, not what you ought.” And here is the poet telling me pretty much the same thing.

Art is supposed to incite raw emotion.

So when it comes to writing this book, a much bigger project than writing one poem, trying to explain all this is very much like trying to explain Zen: no matter which words I choose, the only way another can truly know how it feels is by personal experience. Nevertheless, my soul screams that I have to try. I have to tell this story. It’s a quagmire I just know I can conquer if not with words, then through some sort of osmosis that whoever is meant to hear and understand, will. And yet, my ferryboat is built of words.

D. T. Suzuki writes:

Cannot Zen be so explained that a master can lead all his pupils to enlightenment through explanation? Is satori something that is not at all capable of intellectual analysis? Yes, it is an experience which no amount of explanation or argument can make communicable to others unless the latter themselves had it previously … For a satori turned into a concept ceases to be itself … Therefore, all that we can do in Zen in the way of instruction is to indicate, or to suggest, or to show the way so that one’s attention may be directed towards the goal. As to attaining the goal and taking hold of the thing itself, this must be done by one’s own hands, for nobody else can do it for one…

I can’t wrap its message into a neat little package others can take with them like a piece of chewing gum that releases some great philosophical truth when you bite into it. If I could, believe me, I would.

END OF EXCERPT.

Book Review: "The Shack" by William P. Young

I believe there are as many ways to God as there are beings in this universe.

The Shack by William P. Young is about how one man finds God through the atrocity of his young daughter’s murder.

This book reinforces some of the truths I've learned on my own journey, primarily the discovery of God in unexpected places and times in our lives.

I also find it interesting that the author mentions music and musicians here, and references James Taylor, Bob Dylan, Moby, Sarah McLachlan, Jackson Browne,  Bruce Cockburn and the bands U2, Indigo Girls and Dixie Chicks, to name a few.

Kudos to The Shack for portraying God as alternating between male and female personifications and for depicting God as more than one spiritual entity. For me, these were the book's shining moments.

I did however, have a few problems with this book. The main issue was that it is a bit too slanted toward Christianity. Although the author goes out of his way to say this isn’t the case, I found some of the concepts confusing. For instance, Young assumes that everyone practices a rite called "devotions." I had no idea what he was talking about.

I also think that due to the manner in which the story is presented, it excludes a lot of people. Not everyone sees God within the context of Christianity or religion. The Shack makes reference only to The Bible, as if it were the only holy text, whereas there are other books out there that also contain universal truths. Tao Te Ching, for instance, is even older than The Bible.

In any case, this book is written, as all books are, from the author’s perspective, which includes that which he believes to be true and that’s why I forgive these “indiscretions.” There is still a light in this book that will inspire many.

That being said, neither do I think it’s wrong to see God within the context of Christianity or religion. However one discovers God is great. It only matters that you find Him/Her/It/Them--whatever your definition of the Divine may be, and that you realize you are an important part of the Magnificence—that which is in you and also all around you.

Oh, the Drama of Writing (and Achieving Goals)

I'm scared to death. My book is finished. I’ve been sending queries to prospective agents. Last week, one of them emailed me back and requested my manuscript. Oh my God…

A million thoughts are running through my mind. What if she doesn’t like it? What if my writing is no good?

Worse, what if she does like it? What if she finds a publisher for me and my book is released to the world? Then, what? I might as well stand stark naked in the middle of I-25 at rush hour, with a blinking neon sign and arrows pointing to me! Am I really willing to do that?

I sometimes compare my book to The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. If you haven’t read this, I highly recommend that you do. DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD is a modern day and true story version of this fictionalized tale about a shepherd boy seeking his Personal Legend—the purpose of his life. And just like in The Alchemist, now that I’m standing on the edge and I need to let go and jump into the abyss—solo and without a parachute, I’m paralyzed with fear.

“Just DO it,” Nike says. Yeah, easier said than done, pal.

Apparently this is a common reaction. We want our dream to come true. We want it with all our might, have perhaps even spent our entire lives working toward it. And then, just when we are about to see it come to fruition, most of us back off. Why? Because of all of those fears I mentioned. Then the final hurdle consists of facing the notion that we may actually be more afraid of achieving our dream than we are of not achieving it!

Patricia Walker--Featured Writer This Week

Published author Tim Northburg, a fellow member of the Northern Colorado Writer’s Association has featured me and my book, DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD on his blog this week!

You can read it here: feature-northern-colorado-writer-pat.html

Thanks so much for your support, Tim!

T.A. Northburg

Possibilities

Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I head upstairs to my computer to wrap up the final edits on DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD. But as I glance at the pages before me, my little notes scribbled in the margins, I pause. It’s almost done.

It’s also New Year’s Eve and a small voice in my heart is telling me that it’s more important to post on my blog than to work on my book, so here goes:

There’s something about the prospect of a new year that fills me with hope. Its possibilities are endless.

Lastnight I met with a friend I hadn’t seen in years. She asked me to explain what my book was about. I did my best to condense six years into a two-hour conversation. I thought I was simply recanting the story, but afterward, she hugged me. With a new light in her eyes, she told me that she was excited because my story had caused her to think about her own life. For years, she’d been feeling restless and couldn’t figure out why. She kept getting the idea that she was meant to do something important for the world, and yet, something kept stopping her.

After hearing about what had happened to me, she said that she now sees the importance of listening to her inner self and pursuing that which calls her, even though she still isn’t quite sure where it will take her. But now she is inspired to take that first step on her path! By my simply telling her what my book was about? I wondered. Wow.

To say I am humbled is a gross understatement.

She’s not the first to tell me this. After hearing about my experience, people have often told me the same thing, and I almost hate to say this out loud, but maybe this story is magic. It certainly has been for me.

I can’t wait to share it with the rest of you! Stay tuned; it won’t be long now. I have a strong feeling that 2010 will be the year.

In the meantime, keep believing in yourself. Use the new year, with its limitless scope of possibilities, to cultivate and nurture your dreams. You already have all the answers. You just need to give yourself permission to hear them within yourself.

Wishing you a blessed and happy 2010.

--Baja Rock Pat

There's a Supernatural Force...

…that desperately wants me to tell my story, DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD.

I’m absolutely positive about this because my post, “Semantics,” dated Oct. 21, 2009, almost didn’t get published, for the same reason I keep working so hard at DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD. I’m trying to cross all my “t’s” and dot all my “i’s” and bending over backward to get everyone’s approval every step of the way—I’m so afraid of offending anyone.

But I believe our interpretations of the events in our lives and the meaning of those events is something that is strictly personal and comes to us in a way that’s unique to each person’s way of understanding. What’s right for one isn’t necessarily right for someone else. This goes for tastes in food and living conditions as well as spiritual beliefs.

Just when I’d been hesitating to publish “Semantics,” I received an update from the founder of the Northern Colorado Writer’s Association, of which I am a member. Kerrie Flanagan’s blog featured a gifted writer by the name of Laura Resau, who wrote about how shamanism played a major role in a lot of her books. Laura said shamans believe that their power comes from a divine source and this power translates itself into words or stories, much like what writers have to do. She also provided a link to a talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the immensely successful EAT, PRAY, LOVE.

Book Update: A New Endorsement and Other Exciting Things in the Works!

I HAVE FINISHED THE MANUSCRIPT!!!! Yes, I’m shouting. Six years of toil—blood, sweat and tears…

I’ve changed the title of my book from Wings of Rock to: DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD. (You’ll have to read it to see why I’ve chosen this title.)

This too, is subject to change at any time, as writing is a never-ending process. I’m told publishers often change the title anyway, unless they absolutely love it, so I’m prepared for that.

My editor is now checking the entire manuscript for punctuation and grammar, so this is the final writing stage before submission. She should be finished by the end of next week. After that, hopefully it will only take me a day or two to incorporate the changes.

I have also finished my query letter and am very pleased with it.

The next step is finding an agent. A professional author is giving me a recommendation to someone, so please send positive vibes my way. I have a really good feeling about this; I don’t know why!

I also now have a new endorsement. I’m so excited! Here it is:

"Pat Walker's memoir is a joy. It is Eat, Pray, Love for the common woman -- you know, the vast majority of us who can't travel the world because we're stuck at home, doing laundry and driving kids around. I laughed out loud, but I also discovered that serious transformation can occur when one is open to it. In other words, it gives me hope."

-- Laura Pritchett, winner of PEN/USA Award and Milkweed National Fiction Prize

I’m deeply honored to have this endorsement, as giving people hope is what I’ve worked tirelessly to accomplish with my book. I will put this blurb under the “Praise” tab here on “Voice of the Spirit.” However, please don’t get the impression that my book is for women only—it’s for everyone!

Excerpt from "Dance of the Electric Hummingbird" by Patricia Walker

From Chapter 28—One Foot on the Path, Body and Mind to Follow:

I want to be fully immersed in this moment, to experience all of my life, attach myself fully to all my emotions, feelings and experiences. I want to let them show to the world without apologies, to share this love and joy openly and freely, not keep them quietly to myself and be disciplined. I don’t want to speak softly or live beneath diffused lighting and muted colors. I’m tired of beige.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs, laugh out loud, experience vibrant red, yellow, orange, purple. I want to dance and make noise, let it all out of me no matter how long it takes. I don’t want to feel holy and reserved. I want to grab ahold of the tail of the tiger, feel his tight muscles moving beneath his skin, white fangs flashing as he thrashes and twists trying to devour me. I want to hold onto him with every ounce of my being for as long as I can before I release him to the universe, or he consumes me, then watch the effect float away like the text of a Star Wars film.

Sammy Hagar's Birthday Bash 2009

Sammy Hagar recently celebrated his birthday at his Cabo Wabo Cantina in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with five days of rock ‘n’ roll, commencing on October 7 and culminating with his birthday “party” on October 13. You’d never guess by looking at him that he’s 62; he looks at least 20 years younger and has more energy than most 30-year olds—still touring around the world with his latest band, Chickenfoot.

The final concert of the birthday bash was almost cancelled due to the rain, which fell nearly every day and flooded the streets. Luckily it held off long enough for the show to take place, resuming its incessant misting (it doesn’t really rain down there, it mists heavily) by the time all was said and done. 

I was fortunate to be able to acquire tickets to each show, a feat that’s becoming increasingly difficult to do. This is because the requirement for getting tickets is having to wait in line all night on the cobblestones of Mexico’s cockroach-ridden, dusty sidewalks, and this time there was an added bonus—it was raining.

Each year my body convinces me that I won’t do it again next year. And yet I do. Why?

Because there is something magical about Cabo. And because in Cabo Sammy lets his hair down a little more than he does while on tour. And also because you never know who might show up to jump onstage and join the party. In the past, there have been such music legends as Ted Nugent, Jerry Cantrell, Billy Duffy, Toby Keith, Kenny Chesney, Chad Kroeger, and many others. This year the bash was in full swing as Sammy and Michael Anthony (former bass player of Van Halen) repeatedly snagged other people’s drinks off the trays of passing waitresses and helped themselves to a swig. They then replaced the drinks, but not before refilling them with tequila from the bottles chilling in the buckets onstage.