The Starting Point

I have been working recently with some folks in New Zealand who have created a lovely program called Transcending Cancer designed to help people cope with the emotional and spiritual challenges of that ubiquitous disease. They felt my approach to teaching writing would be a useful tool for their community, and so we arranged for me to give a free talk to test the waters. It went well enough, but we have been in discussion since to determine what a full class I could teach might look like.

Petrina, one of the co-founders, mentioned that as much as she had liked my talk, she realized it was aimed mostly toward people who were already interested in writing. She suspected that many of the people in the community would have no regular writing practice. Could I, she wondered, structure a talk for these people, whose relationship to writing might extend no further than emails and reports and the occasional journal entry? I told her I absolutely could, and looked forward to doing so.

Had I given such a talk before? Not really. I had spoken to some Rotary Clubs about how writing teaches a person to think creatively about their own life, but that was a very different audience, one for whom I chose to touch only lightly on the spiritual nature of writing. Did I already have ideas about the content of this new talk? No, I did not. Initially, when I agreed, I had not a single idea. I had nothing, really, except the acute awareness of how interested I was in translating what I teach for someone cracked open by cancer. If I have that kind of interest, I have everything I need. If I have that, the details and the specifics will come naturally, the way metal shavings collect on a magnet.

So often, when I think about what I have and do not have, I turn my attention to what I can see and touch, to the things I own or what I have published or shared. I like all that stuff, but in truth it is only the fruit of what I can actually possess, that which cannot be seen or known by anyone but me. The challenge, the enduring, lifelong challenge, is to remember that what I truly have is always enough. It’s enough to make anything, do anything, live anywhere. It’s enough because it’s the starting point for everything, and it’s all in me.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com