Tag Archives: CyranoWriter

Reset In The Forest, Back To Your Roots: IMprov Prose

On our property, the Old Woman of the Woods is the Matriarch. A mighty oak tree, she was in her late teens when the Civil War’s Battle of Chickamauga raged less than a mile away. She often imparts wisdom, especially as I’m working in the undergrowth, clearing out things that don’t belong near her. This is a message I got recently as I was pulling up invasive Chinese Privet from around her roots and base.
Up the trunk into the branches of the Old Woman of the Woods oak tree
Any time there is a shock to your system, any time something changes radically, you go back to your roots. You go back to you, for you. Withdraw. Reset at your base.

Some of the ancillary branches, things in your life that aren’t at your core, at your roots, may whither, shed, drop off and die.

That is okay. Once you get back to your core, back to your roots, you will reset. Your upper part, the upper branches, will come back fuller, stronger, and more in line with what you should be, what you are at your core.

—Message from the Old Woman as I cleared around her base.

Accepting Old People Where They Are: Revolutionary Prose

A Facebook friend posted this thought: “You don’t need to “orient” the elderly, even if they have dementia. Spend time with them where they are at … even if it’s 1959. Ask them about what they do remember.” To which I responded:
“When my grandmother was going through that phase, where she couldn’t remember things even a few minutes after they happened, I had this thought: Old people get to that phase so they can pass their knowledge and wisdom and stories from long long ago onto to the next generation. She could remember the name of her four-year-old best friend, but she couldn’t remember what she had for breakfast that morning. So I asked her about her four-year-old neighbor and her childhood and the first time she saw an airplane. I learned how to fillet a fish. I played endless hours of cribbage and listened to stories and got to ask questions and watch her face light up as she remembered things she hadn’t thought of in decades. I spent months going through the years of 1920 to 1990 with her, looking at old photo albums, making video and audio recordings. She talked about those memories and photos as if the events captured had happened yesterday. Because to her, they probably had. It was an amazing experience.
As a result my children have heard and know more “Grandma stories” than my father, her eldest son. I’m grateful I took the time to listen about yesterday, instead of trying to force her into today.”