Writing From the Heart

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“There is a wisdom of the head, and…a wisdom of the heart.” – Charles Dickens

This post was originally published on 3/1/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.

The other day I read a beautiful post that was a tribute to a dearly departed pet. It was so touching and zinged me right where there’s a sore spot from missing my beloved dog, Biscuit, that died six years ago. I had to walk away for about 30 minutes before I could write a comment.

I find this so often be true – the topics that are the closest to my heart are hard to write about when the tears are still flowing. When I had to say good-bye to Biscuit, the next day the only words I could manage was to put a sign next to the cat who was also grieving the loss of his buddy:

Cat missing his newly departed dog

So this set me off wondering why it is so hard. Loss of perspective? Lack of clarity so I can’t yet make meaning? Inability to see the keyboard when the tears are flowing?

Thinking it could be a left-brain/right-brain kind of thing, I looked up the neuroscience of writing and found this New York Times article: This is Your Brain on Writing. Turns out that left-brain/right-brain isn’t much of a delineation that they make these days. Instead the article describes the results an fMRI study of the brain while writing including the detail that in expert writers, there is a part of the brain, the caudate nucelus, that lights up. The same part of the brain doesn’t light up for novice writers, a result that made sense to the scientists because the caudate nucleus is the part of the brain associated with expertise. Which was interesting but didn’t get me any closer to an answer.

Then I looked to our sacred texts and the spiritual world for wisdom on those moments when I can’t write. I was reacquainted with one of my dad’s favorite quotes from 17th century mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal: “The heart has its reasons, that reason does not know.” My dad often cited this quote in an argument about belief in God – that our heart knows even if there isn’t any proof for the head. Maybe those topics that zing me are too close to my heart so they haven’t made it to the head yet?

Next on my list of possible explanations was poly-vagal theory about the three states of our nervous system. When I wrote about it for a post, The Unified Theory of Breathing I summarized the three states as: ventral which is calm and regulated, sympathetic the fight or flight response, and dorsal which is when the nervous system has been so stimulated that it shuts down. Perhaps when I can’t write, I’m flooded, in a dorsal state and can’t write? While this alludes to an answer, I don’t feel like I’m dysregulated and can’t write, just that I can’t find the words.

Finally, I turned to the world of yoga and meditation and found an explanation that makes sense to me. Stillness. When my waters are muddied, I have a harder time seeing into my depths. In times of life when the waves are choppy, I am all churned up inside. It’s only when I reconnect with my inner stillness that I can see well enough to cross the space between me and you.

What I found to be as fascinating as the question itself were the lenses I looked through to find my answer. Brain science, theology, physiology, and meditation – my four go-tos and I usually find the answer sitting in meditation. Must be why I do it every day. A confirmation bias loop because it works for me.

Here’s my take-away from the journey: It’s hard to write when I’m too wet and stirred up in my heart. And it’s also hard when I’m too dry and too much in my head. I have to aim for somewhere in the middle where I’m soft, warm, and clear.

What about you?

33 thoughts on “Writing From the Heart”

  1. Great piece, Wynne. I’m currently wandering around in the dry, dry desert in search of an oasis. Other than a notice about building security, I haven’t written a word in weeks. Maybe months. It’s comforting to know that these spurts happen in cycles, and that one day, I’ll be back making friends with my keyboard again. Meanwhile, I enjoy reading your inspirations of those of others. Thanks. I needed that!

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    1. Hey – a notice about building security is not nothing, Julia! You have been through quite a journey in the last few months. I suspect that we have to have stable ground under our feet before we can settle into the writing. Sending you lots of love!! ❤ ❤ ❤

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  3. Very good point Wynne. I have to agree with you, I don’t like writing when I’m feeling very hot about a subject, I find I write very narrowly and miss important points. I also don’t like writing when I’m up in my head only, for I just don’t feel the emotions to be able to convey them

    I have a few posts that I started when I jotted down a title and maybe a few sentences, but I can only continue them when it feels like the right time to write about them. Sometimes I get most of the way through, only to feel that it isn’t the right time to share, so the post sits, waiting. At some point when I come back to it I see it with new eyes and know exactly what I need to add or delete from it before publishing.

    It is definitely related to my state of mind, but I’m then astounded how often someone will comment that they needed to see that right then.

    I have heard so many times that we’re all connected, and in those moments I see the truth in my corner of the world. I always find it interesting that when I wait for the moment when it feels right, how it seems to work out for the best.

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    1. I love this note about starting and then returning to something. And then how it seems to work out the best when we finally get it out there. The mystery of life is so much bigger than we can see. Thank you for this beautiful comment that packs in so much!

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  4. This is so true: “When my waters are muddied, I have a harder time seeing into my depths.” I think if I’m too stirred up, I can write or vent for myself, but it’s not something I’d want to publish. It definitely helps to be in a calmer space.

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  5. I have some of the same struggles, I need to be in that middle part. I compare it to why it’s so hard for me to write about the state of politics in the US. When things happen, I find I get angry and stirred up. I’ll write something but it doesn’t feel right to me. I’ll wait, but then the news cycle has moved on and often my feelings have become dry. I need the warm middle for it to work for me — which is probably a blessing in disguise. Keeps me focused on what really matters to me and not a bunch of noise!

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  6. I’m gonna jump off the boat here Wynne and say that I see your past paragraph this way: there is reactionary writing, deep thoughtful figure it out writing, and then there is the middle. – That balance point that so many want to present that shows emotion- but not too much, the thoughtful reasoning without being so deep that folks need clues to figure out the message because you yourself haven’t found it, and then there’s the balanced polished voice- the “soft, warm, and clear” as you put it. I’m jumping now and tossing this out as I float out over the waves- I think that there’s room in writing for all 3 Wynne’s. I think that we who write all need to be heard in different ways at different times. I think, given that we are complex humans, that to expect our writing to be balanced a great deal of the time is not giving credit to the fact that we ARE complex, nuanced, maybe loud, maybe angry, maybe questioning, maybe… I think that if we have words in our heads that need to be expressed then they should be expressed at that time whether they make sense or not, whether they are right or not. I really don’t believe that waiting for calm is always the correct approach. I absolutely see your point but I also question a nagging feeling that I would personally feel like I was compromising my individuality and voice. I am/we are multi-faceted. I think the world is willing to see, understand and accept that person and their words.

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  7. Wynne, you are so right about how hard it is to write when we are “too wet and stirred up.” At least for me, writing when I’m “too dry and too much in my head” is a bit easier. I kind of have to write something to figure out what’s going on and to download the stuff from my head. I’ll go crazy if I don’t. I have notebooks for everything. I have one to take notes when reading books, one for my Bible reading, I carry around a Traveler’s notebook/calendar to write random notes, to-do lists or errands, and I even have one for our household budget. The only time I write using a computer or smart device is for blogging, email, or when I need to write an important document to send out. Scientifically speaking, there are more benefits to handwriting on paper (highlighting paper because now you can write on a “paper-like tablet” called reMarkable) than in digital form. In the book, The Power of Writing It Down, Allison Fallon says in the chapter “Writing that Heals You” that, “Expressive writing is the act of sharing your deepest thoughts and feelings about a subject on the page. What you have to do is consider what you think and how you feel about a subject, scribble a few words down on the page, and slowly, over time, watch your perspective and your life transform.”

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    1. I love all the different notebooks that you list — because they are different things. And then maybe they can come together a bit when we write documents and blog posts.

      The quote from Allison Fallon is really good as well. I have no doubt that writing has been so key to transforming my perspective and life.

      Great comment – thank you, Edward!

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  9. Fascinating. Another angle that’s relevant is this : fast thinking and slow thinking. At 84 I have grown to trust both processes, knowing that some writing (//thinking) takes its own sweet time. Sometimes it takes weeks to write a key sentence. Sometimes the writing flies. Now, neither bother me. That’s t he effect of years of practice — expertise changes the process, for sure.

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    1. Oh, Rachel. I love your sentence, “Now, neither bother me. ” The pinnacle of being when we can live with both! Thank you for sharing that wonderful perspective that I aspire to!

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    2. it’s funny: Kahneman’s work, Thinking Fast and Slow, is what I was thinking of as I read about the results of the fMRI. You know, “fast thinking” would be a chess master just “seeing” what’s the next best move after glancing at a chess board for a few seconds, a master chef just knowing how to fix a dish. Slow thinking is what us novices go through in the “training” process, and if it completes, we reinforce the “practice makes perfect” old saying?

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  10. This is so relatable, Wynne, and I think Deb is onto something. We need to allow space for all versions of ourselves to be seen and heard, without too much worry about filtering and presentation.

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  11. I remember this post! And with fresh perspective on loss, I can relate to it. It’s hard to express our grief in words when the wounds are so fresh indeed. But there is a beauty in that sweet spot indeed feeling and not feeling when the words flow naturally.

    Writing is a great way to process emotions and emotions are a great fuel to the creative process.

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    1. Wow, Ab – this is such a great sentence, “Writing is a great way to process emotions and emotions are a great fuel to the creative process.” Holy smokes, you captured the symbiosis so well. Yes, so hard when the wounds are fresh! Thank you, my friend!

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  12. Brilliant post Wynne. I love your four go-tos. All contribute something to the equation and then you come to find the answer, where it’s always been, inside yourself. Looks like you found your sweet spot.

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  13. Thanks, Wynne. For me, if the tenderness and tears are present enough, I am sometimes at a point where no words are adequate. Then or later. I don’t expect every sentiment can be transmitted. As I think about it, the other is always a separate and different creature with a separate and different understand of things. We can get close, but don’t merge fully. Only a Vulcan “Mind Meld” would do the trick. For now, that is science fiction.

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  14. I love that perspective of ‘in the middle’!
    I tend to call it ‘triage mode’. When things are topsy turvy, when the SHTF and life is filled with turmoil, when grief is overwhelming….I tend to pull into my shell and triage what needs to be done. Which is the most critical, that gets dealt with and everything else is going to have to wait. Trying to do anything more will overwhelm me.

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  15. There’s truth in that. Except that a master will also, I think, experience slow thinking, recognizing and trusting both processes. Which feels like a place both exciting and safe, to me (when it happens in).

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