This week I facilitated the first ever Writing & Wayfinding, a monthly writer’s workshop for anyone who holds a reverence for language. New writers, never writers, only-always writers. I invited them to bring their loves of song, poetry, essay, letter, and story into a space rooted in collective remembering and reimagination.
I believe, wholeheartedly, that equipping more people with the ability to recognize the inherent worth of their stories— inviting them to move past the fear of goodness and rightness to translate their experience into words — is one of the most powerful things we can do as we build a world together.
Each month, I’ll share the framing I gave to the group and the questions I asked us to consider together. This first experience was the coolest thing I have ever done. I am so excited to continue — see you here :).
** the following questions and discussion are from my writing workshop, Writing and Wayfinding, held in Los Angeles between June 2024 - July 2025**
Grappling with the unknown
Who are you in the face of the unknown? How do you feel? Where?
What is unknown to you? To us (collectively)? Is it really?
What does it mean to know? How do we/you go about finding out?
***
Language is a way to give voice/shape to that which is asking to become known. At its core, it is a translation of experience.
Of all the mediums that reach toward the ineffable, language has the unique gift and responsibility of naming and transferring understanding. When we use language, we are saying – here is the lens I view life represented in a way you might understand. What happens in the body is the confluence of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.
Rather than going from abstraction to logic; language, even (and especially) when figurative, takes an observer (and self) from logic to abstraction. It is an expansion. It is a Trojan Horse carrying universes that are meant to be built upon.
Language is a comfort giver; a walking partner; a revealer.
Language asks us to have the courage to see clearly; to not look away or around or through. To imagine what could emerge if we are honest with what is
The act of sharing our stories is inherently important. It is crucial to the writing process. It is everything.
Our understanding of self opens the door for others to deepen their understanding; the lines between self and other become blurred. It brings us into relationships, and, if we’re intentional, into community with others.
When we share our earnest attempts at truth (what is true for us in this moment) we ask others not to turn away – we offer a hand of mutual support, of
“I am here, unknowing and trying to, let us wander together.”
Let our beliefs, our curiosities, the things we felt we could not speak for fear of banishment, for not having enough space, reveal the next stone and then the next until we have grabbed many hands and all of us continue the walk forward. Let us be so joyous in our walk that we do not even notice when the stones give way to an entire world in which we can see ourselves — all of us.
Sharing the forms we carve our language into is a sustainable behavior in creating conditions in ourselves, our communities, and our systems that pave the way for new realities to be born. Our present reality is the result of an imagination [as Sonya Renee Taylor says]. We have not only the agency but the responsibility as people called to writing to give material that may expand the moral imagination [as Toni Morrison says].
This does not have to be literal. I have been forever changed by the lyrics of a song that speaks nothing of systems but instead of girlhood and what it was like for the singer to grow up. Letters are, in many ways, the only place I feel safe to explore the depths of the things I love and reveal my values to myself.
We are the universe trying to organize itself. If one more person understands themselves just a touch more – that ripples exponentially in our efforts to find collective shape.
If we can revel in the experience of unknowing — unclogging our ears of all the things we “know” so we can hear the call of what is asking to be spoken— perhaps we can create a world a bit easier to breathe in. We can stop fearfully protecting the facade of having the answers. We can rest.
Language is a loyal companion as we navigate the dark.
Walk with her.
What does she ask of you?
***
Prompt: Imagine a world where it was valued to Not Know things; that Not Knowing was a pleasurable, joy-filled experience. Write (the beginnings of) a (letter, song, poem, essay, story, etc.) about what you would admit to Not Knowing.
This is a beautiful piece and I resonate with it a lot. I recently wrote something about trying to move away from language sometimes and turn towards somatics more, to let go of a need to understand myself or be understood by others through words. But in that surrendering to the flow of experience, I don't give up on language entirely, and in fact can find it easier to write or speak with less attachment to the outcome. Your essay reminds me why I love and value writing and want to contribute some to the world. I'd love to be notified next time you open up a workshop to newcomers <3