a writer's rambling blog
January 4, 2011
Thanks for visiting! I’m a woman named Dean who works and plays as a writer in Austin, Texas. This personal, rambling blog includes literary non-fiction, political rants, spiritual exploration, and journal-like entries of my life as writer, feminist and artist.
I also lead the community writing class, Writing Your Life as a Woman.
And I promote my husband, jazz trumpeter Jeff Lofton.
Please connect by commenting here or introduce yourself on Facebook and Twitter.
January 2, 2012
I’m basking in the New Year energy after a rejuvenating holiday season that included lots of down time and fun. My morning inspirational reading today speaks to releasing the old and making way for the new. I thought of this later in the morning in a conversation about forgiveness that included a reference to the line in the Lord’s Prayer: “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.”
Today I am grateful for forgiveness. I could write thank you notes all day for the many times I’ve been generously forgiven. I recently experienced the sweet relief of forgiving someone – quietly and gently with no big proclamation to the person – simply let it go and felt space open up for more joy.
Last year I had to deal with a hostile confrontation from an unstable person. It was startling, unprovoked and unexpected, and it left me feeling unsafe – even in my own home. In addition to the upsetting incident, I was furious that my time had to be spent dealing with cops and lawyers.
While I was generally pleased with how I handled the situation – immediately taking action to be sure there were no further incidents – my anger was so valid I have not been ready to let it go. I’m almost to the point of feeling grateful for the opportunity to stir up other unresolved anger and release it, too. Though I’ve also had moments of just being angry that I was so angry!
While for personal reasons and legal reasons I’m being vague, I’m sure I’ll write more about this later. So peculiar to have someone “hate” you because of career success and happiness. But I know there is plenty for everyone and my success does not limit anyone’s ability to be successful. So I am forgiving – really, it’s an ongoing action – the way I hope to be forgiven for my own trespasses. So freeing to release the old and make way for the new!
December 10, 2011
Here’s the recent email about the classes. To receive future emails sign up at WritingYourLifeAsAWoman.com. Follow me on Facebook for event postings. Your help spreading the word with the Facebook Event is greatly appreciated!
Hello my fellow writing Goddesses… I hope this note finds you writing!
I’m really excited about the new space I’ve found for Writing Your Life as a Woman. It’s an adorable cottage studio called Firetree Studios. Check it out at www.firetreestudios.com. It’s very quiet with lots of daylight and surrounded by trees and open green space!
I’ve revamped the classes and we’ll do a few new things this year. In June I’ll celebrate 15 years of leading these workshops, so I’ve revisited, revised and refreshed the energy around it. I’m so appreciative to the many women who’ve bravely shown up and written their stories and shared them over the years.
Beyond the annual ritual of New Year Resolutions, we are living in swiftly shifting times with room and need for expansion and new thinking. So please join me, and let’s have a little writing revolution of our own. More
November 7, 2011
Watch your language. Say what you mean and mean what you say. People often say things out of habit such as, “I might be wrong, but I think…” or “I’m sorry, but that’s the way I feel.” When actually they do know what they’re talking about or it’s not anything to be sorry about.
There’s no need to apologize for the way you feel or to provide disclaimers for your ideas. Speak your truth.
November 1, 2011
One of my favorite people, comedienne C. KathleenDonnelly, started the concept of NOvember. She defines it as saying “No” to any invitations, added responsibilities or any other request for time and attention – to instead focus on getting our own sh*t done and spending more time with our immediate families (including canine and other animals).
My tweak is that I’m also saying No to anything that takes time away from my own writing and art, too. And there are a few other random things to which I’m also saying No, and I plan to add to the list. Much like decluttering in Feng Shui – saying No to what you don’t want makes room for saying Yes to what you do want.
No regrets.
No whining.
No complaining.
No impatience.
No tolerance of petty tyrants.
No negative people.
No silence when speaking up is needed.
No dawdling in negative possibilities.
No ruminating.
No clutter.
No drama where it doesn’t belong (Drama belongs on the screen, the stage, the canvas or page, the lyrics.)
No judging – just observing
No guilt.
No concern with other’s opinion of my choices.
No settling.
No tolerance of mediocrity.
October 31, 2011
Uncategorized Dean's List, Soul Food 1 Comment
“There is no security in life, only opportunity.” – Mark Twain
Give up the struggle for a false sense of security
(the right job, relationship, large enough bank account, etc.),
and welcome opportunities for growth, learning, change and adventure.
October 23, 2011
Wandered through the library judging books by their covers. No clever displays, no signage. My intuition, and still some semiotics, leading me to inspiration.
I love the weight of a bag of library books, lifted from the car, held on my hip while I unlock the door – hurrying to them.
I owe all my luck to prayers said at the ocean. Missing her.
The flicker of the film screen always catching my eye. Friday there was my husband, playing his trumpet on the big screen, and I recalled the first time I heard him play. Walking towards the restaurant’s open door and hearing a trumpet melody- wondering where that sound would lead me if I kept listening. Sitting at the bar writing in a journal. This week I sat at a bar again, miles away and years later and tapped on an iPad – but just for a minute. Then I pulled out a journal.
Mostly people just want someone to listen.
The reminders and encouragement to write are everywhere lately. One of my favorites was a note from friend sharing this New York Times article, “Jazz Messengers by Haruki Murakami”: “… vast, unknown stretches still lie before us, fertile territories just waiting for us to cultivate them.”
Words don’t suffice for sharing the sparks of magical connection of seeing one’s partner care for one’s child with loving attention to details simply to increase happiness and giggling spells of joy.
October 9, 2011
Life’s too busy for a well-developed, revised article, but also too short to not write a rambling, stream of consciousness and share…. My first memory of protesting was the sixth grade. I led the percussion section of my sixth grade concert band class on a strike to refuse to play with practice pads on our snare drums. Practice pads probably save the sanity of public school band directors, as they are a thick rubber mats that quiet the volume of the drumming. And in the sixth grade, lots of kids want to play the drums – so the concert band has many more snare drummers than are needed.
I said, defiantly, “I did not join the concert band percussion section to play a practice pad. I want to play the actual snare drum!” We made signs. We refused to play. My math teacher explained unions and striking to me. And I thought forming a union really sounded like a hassle, and just gave it a go for the strike. Great impact at first, as the band director was amused. But no luck in getting my demands.
In college my strongest protest memory is standing in total shock at the state capitol building in Columbia, South Carolina, called the Statehouse, protesting a KKK march. There was a woman with her toddler child – dressed in matching robes. I had eye contact with her and thought she looked like so many women I knew growing up in the rural upstate of South Carolina. I was speechless and could not stop staring. Cops kept us off to one side. People argued about the KKK’s right to march.
I thought of this last year, now in Austin, Texas, when my biracial daughter came home from school after her social studies class covered civil rights. She asked, as casually as “what’s for dinner?”: “Why didn’t you tell me about the men who dressed up like ghosts and killed black people and burned crosses?” I was hoping to spare you. Hoping for change before you grew up. The year I was born my marriage to her father was still illegal in our home state. There should have been more change by now.
In my twenties I wore a t-shirt with a nativity scene with the caption, “It’s a girl!” to pro-choice rallies at the State House. In Charleston, it was stunning to me to see no support in the media for Shannon Faulkner, the first woman to attempt to attend the Citadel – an all-male, state-funded, military college. An article in her defense was my first published literary non-fiction piece. It led to another article which started 52%, a women’s political action group. I tolerated hate mail from readers… from the cook at my favorite pizza place… pages of rants from total strangers.
I spent a lot of time in SC writing about, and doing activism about, civil rights issues: women’s rights, gay rights and racism. I sort of joke that I wasted my twenties and thirties telling stupid people how stupid they were – and I have nothing to show for my time. I became a reluctant activist with no patience for people. Which is a very ineffective activist.
I was at the State House again in 2000 on the day the confederate flag was removed from the dome – and put it in the front “yard”… off the dome and in the front yard… the yard that faces Main Street. The confederate flag now flies behind a confederate war memorial statue – peeking out from the side - if the wind is blowing - as you drive towards the State House. “Still here. You can’t forget,” it seems to taunt as it flaps in the wind. The SC Progressive Network brilliantly gave out whistles that day. I still have mine. While blowing a whistle, I couldn’t talk back to the rednecks and skin heads yelling at me by the black iron fence around the statue. The whistles’ high-pitched blast and screams from the crowd were louder than the drummer (even with no practice pad) who marched with a flag bearer, both dressed in confederate garb, to bring the flag from the State House to the pole. People held signs that read, “Blow the whistle on racism,” and simple black letters on yellow poster, “Shame.”
After following the Occupy Wall Street protests online since September 17, I was excited to join the protest in Austin last Thursday. But the new day job required late hours that day, so the kiddo was with my husband at his gig. I stopped in to Ruth’s Chris and sat in the lounge while Shana ate french fries and begged to go to the rally. But it was a school night, and we weren’t sure how rowdy it would be. So I opted to take her home instead. We drove by City Hall twice and yelled and honked, and I was so happy to see a large turnout.
As we left downtown Austin, and drove across the Colorado river, full of glee at the large crowd, Shana said, “I have a song stuck in my head that needs to come out.”
I said, “Sing it, sister!” – having no idea what song this might be. She belted out, “Bye Bye Miss American Pie… ” and I smiled through tears for the times the song spoke of and encouraged her to keep singing. I managed to stop crying and sing along in the finally cool night air (more hope) after a long hot summer.
And with the windows down and the cool breeze swirling the past all around us mixing it with the present and hope for the future, I felt that overwhelm – that knowing moment of shifting that’s bigger than me and my world – beyond our collective consciousness and our vain attempts to make sense of this life. It felt like the moment I’ve been waiting for – forever.
Then she asked, “What do the words mean?” And I sighed a long exhale and said, as a woman too young to be a baby boomer, too old to be Generation X or Y, to the adorable kiddo born in 2001, who thinks the 80s are the olden days, “that’s a conversation for a road trip, not a quick ride home. Don’t worry, there will be plenty of long trips.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I promised. And she was already singing again in her head and belted out, “Man, I dig those rhythm and blues…”
…..
Here’s my fav modern nod to American Pie. The city of Grand Rapids response to a national article about their city not doing well economically.
August 17, 2011
Registration is now open for fall classes – and I’ve added an evening class. Both locations are super cool, with plenty of parking and great spaces for writing. Lots more info at WritingYourLifeAsAWoman.com.
The evening class meets Tuesdays, 7:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m. at Community Renaissance Market, 6800 West Gate Blvd. (at William Cannon) with two four-week sessions offered – September 6 – 27, and October 4 – 25. (This is a former empty, big box grocery store, turned into small business incubator. They’re closed on Tuesdays, so it’ll be nice and quiet for writing!)
The daytime class meets Thursdays, 12:00 p.m. – 2:00 p.m. at Harmony Balance Studio, 3321 Hancock (at Balcones beside Russell’s Bakery) with two four-week sessions offered – September 8 – 29 and October 6 – 27.
Class fee is $85 for a four-week session. When space is available, drop-ins are welcome for $25 per class. Availability is noted at www.WritingYourLifeAsAWoman.com and/or my Facebook page. To register you can pay via Pay Pal to dean@deanlofton.com or send an email to dean@deanlofton.com to get a postal address to send a check.
Here’s some recent press:
Austin Business Journal profile
Writing on the Air interview, 3/9/11, KOOP 91.7 FM
“… a mix of fabulously interesting women including songwriters, movers and shakers and professionals… I left class that day feeling liberated and expressed. … it’s fabulous!” – Launch787.com
August 17, 2011
It is with great sadness that on behalf of the Lofton family I report the passing of our beloved rabbit, Jeremy “Bunny” Lofton. Bunny left us early this morning for heavenly fields of clover where no hawks fly.
Bunny will long be remembered for his friendliness, an extra flair in his hop as if attempting to click his back heels together, and his patience, especially for doll clothes. He was soft and cuddly and enjoyed being fed by hand.
Bunny joined our family this spring. During an energy clearing visit, my friend and client, Feng Shui Consultant Stacy Davenport asked Shana what she would like to bring into our space. Her answer was “a bunny.” Stacy soon called to say, “I found Shana’s bunny. ” Her next client had a bunny that needed a home.
At the funeral this morning, Shana read the following poem in Bunny’s honor. (author unknown)
Hopping through the fields,
Not a dwelling in sight,
Looking for a comfortable place
Where I can rest tonight.
Along comes a friend
That takes me in.
Now I am safe and warm
In a lovely, loving home
Thanks so much for taking
This bunny home.
RIP Bunny. It was an honor to know you. You were the best bunny ever. You’ll be missed.
August 11, 2011
I love the email tips from the ScreamFree folks. Just had to share this one. Learn more about their books, email tips and workshops at ScreamFree.com.
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“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.”
-Dr. Seuss (1904-1991)
Hal’s Take:
Too many times in life, when we are faced with a difficult situation, we tend to think in extremes. We either shut down or we blow up. While this is definitely understandable, it is ultimately weak.
We are much more powerful than that and the people we love deserve better from us. When you are pushed, you have the choice as to how to act. When you are slighted, you have the choice as to how to respond. It’s not easy, but it is better. So, give yourself a chance to choose by pushing the pause button next time instead of simply reacting.
-Hal Runkel, LMFT, Author of ScreamFree Parenting
