LESSON: The Energy Method

The Playful Way to Serious Writing - Roberta Allen

What is the Energy Method?

The Energy Method is an instant way to tap in to your creative ENERGY and get your words flowing on paper without interruption.

It is a way to break that shell of fear and write with exhilaration that comes with releasing pent-up ENERGY.

It is a way to bypass the inner voice that stops you, the critical voice that might make you rework the same sentence all day.

It is a simple, fun-filled way to write that allows you to lose yourself like a child in the magic of creating.

It meanst going with the words and images that excite you, inspire you.

It means FOLLOWING YOUR CREATIVE ENERGY, follow your spark, going wherever it leads you.

How it works
Set a timer for whatever time limit you feel necessary. Write instantly before you have time to think.

The time limit concentrates your ENERGY while the exercise focuses your attention on a particular topic or image.

In the moment you start writing, you are a diver plunging into the unknown.

By letting yourself write freely and spontaneously, you allow your voice to come through and discover, when you let that voice take you in any direction, a sea of unexpected images and associations that might not come to you any other way, without that time restraint.

How to know a word or image has ENERGY

• You feel the tiniest pinprick of feeling
• Your eye is drawn to it instantly.
• You find yourself thinking about it
• It conjures a strong association
• You feel moved or excited
• You feel irritated or disturbed

What I Need from YOU
In the exercises, you must allow yourself to write whatever comes up-no matter how dark or painful or downright silly. You must give yourself permission to be as open as a little child. You must give yourself permission to play. If you stop yourself from writing the painful or silly stuff, you will not get to the real ENERGY-you will not tap in to those things that move you, that make you who you are. You will not have fun with process, which help free you from the past.

In this class, not every exercise will have ENERGY for you. Not every one will excite you. When one exercise leaves you cold, think about it in another light...or don't do it. Keep doing them until you find the ones called "triggers," the ones that surprise you, that lead you somewhere you didn't know you wanted to go.

Because an exercise doesn't work for you one time is no reason to believe it won't work for you if you try it again.

Don't automatically bypass any exercise that seem to have no ENERGY. Some may have the greatest ENERGY of all!

 

hopes, dreams, fears, and things that paralyze me.... and random thoughts

I have always been interested in art, poetry, literature, and music. I love looking at it, analyzing it, creating it, and if possible, helping others do the same.
I love life. I miss being a care-free child, free as a butterfly, picking dandelions and white and red clover. I miss not caring what people think about me, so that I can say and do what I enjoy without wondering if anyone saw how stupid I looked doing it... and especially without even realizing myself, how stupid I look or sound.
I want to be that care-free child again. I want to go back to the days in the late 80s and break-dance to Michael Jackson music videos and sing the "Monkees" songs with my sister. I want to run around in my grandma's front yard, spreading my arms out and spinning around like an airplane propeller. I want to go back to the days when my little sister and I would sit on the top bunk, laughing for no reason, because that was our meeting place for our private "giggle club." I want to play with her in my grandma's back yard, on the swings, playing "koala and kangaroo" like we did every afternoon when I'd come home from school after learning about Australia in my third grade social studies class. Those are my hopes and dreams-- to be a happy, care-free, fun-loving child once again, but also to be a good mother to my four amazing children and a good wife to my wonderful husband. I have become so serious and boring since becoming an adult, and am beginning to dislike myself. I am afraid of becoming so care-free that I am care-LESS. I am afraid that I will return to my child-like lifestyle so completely that I will forget to be an adult when I have to be-- when it's time to be responsible and discipline my children or even myself. I'm afraid that if I say and do what I want, I won't only be ridiculed, but I'll be punished for being "wrong," whether what I'm doing is really wrong or just viewed as taboo by today's society. I'm afraid to love fully, I'm afraid to be openly sexual and I'm afraid to admit to myself that it's ok to feel beautiful. I'm afraid to be happy, because my family beat into my subconscious that it is better to be miserable and do all you can to make others happy, than it is to take care of your own needs. I want to disown most of my family, because they hold me back, but I feel guilty if I tell them how much they have really hurt me. I feel guilty if I tell anyone my true feelings, whether those feelings are positive or negative. I feel that I am too sensitive and worry too much and cry too much and love too much, but my biggest problem concerning love is that I am so afraid to REALLY show my true feelings even to my own husband. I wish I was more child-like in that way too. At least then I'd be more likely to tell him all my desires, rather than hope he learns to read my mind and heart someday.

 

At this moment of my life I can tell Ive opened my eyes for the very first time,and what do I see?Green inside of the blue,and blue inside of the green,I see people Ive known all of my life,but,how could I see them just now? How could I not see the Denial? of me,of them?Im just watching her in her sleep,though Ive watched her sleeping many times before,this would be the first time I watch her dreaming,she seems so peaceful at last,if you met her on this state,you would never guess what she goes through day to day.I could blame her for never knowing,I could blame her for not living,I really could,but somehow,I dont,I just dont.I understand her choice,Maybe we all just need to dream away sometimes,maybe thats her motive,maybe shes finding answers,maybe she found the light in another world,in another place,or maybe she chose it that way because its better in her mind than in her life.He walks through me again,he says hi,but does he really mean it?I think it is more of a routine we have fallen into.The years go by,and it has been the same,alway.Why wont I say something?why wont he?is it too late?but it never is too late, time is infinite,but we never know what to do with it.Do we need a limit and restrictions to use time?I feel it inside,maybe I should pour it outside,maybe I should reinvent it and make it what we want from it.A third person enters the corner,just the same way one morning he entered my life,just like in less than 3 hours he was in a depth length I was not aware I could feel before,but,why would he choose to hold a gun instead of holding me?Al of these things affect me somehow,but do they feel the same effect?or am I just completly irrelevant?whatever the answer may be,I might never know it,but thats no excuse to give it a try,everything is worth a try.

 

love love love LOVE is what matters most to me to me and not any other fucking thing. I mean, really, what could be more important than this the most important thing in the world? Love is what matters, what moves us, what give birth to us, what fuels my art, what gives her song a melody, a natural movement of moving grace. when I look at our picture i am drawn instantly to the way my lover snuggles close to me, under my arm, as if she wants to be one with me. And isn't that the whole point of love and marriage and dare i say, SEX? To be one even for a moment. Disengaging only to give us the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of reengaging, reuniting with one another. To RE- MEMBER ourselves with each other. Yes, love is what my mission in life is, if one has a mission at all. love is my mission. To live is to love is to live life as it is: accepting what comes to me and being in the moment. I love you Ayumi, Aishite imasu!

 

half-remembered songs i've written are painful in their own sentimental way. I mean, it's just so frustrating to have to try to dig up all those moments when I hardly had a care in the world and i would jsut sit in my bedroom with my guitar and write my songs and sing them to myself all alone while dreaming of a time when my genius would be recognized and finally I was who and what I wanted to be and did what I wanted to do. REGRET is the main thing, the main cause for my pain now, because i ended up in a job I didn't want although how can i not be grateful for my job right now that i'm getting married? you cannot imagine how many times i wish i did things differently, if only i had the guts. i can only hope that it's not too late, although i have a feeling it is. but who knows maybe i'm wrong and there's still hope after all for little ol' me just like there's a pot of gold at the end of every freakin' rainbow and there's a little green fairy at the bottom of every bottle of absinthe just waiting to be released into the world and wreak a lot of mischief. Word.(^_^)

 

I'm sick again and it hurts. And its lame and it sucks and I hate it. I'm all out of tissue so I'm blowing my runny nose on this green towel that scratches and hurts. It's not even my towel. I don't own anything. Not even my own life. I wake up in the morning and do what people tell me. Slip into clothes the TV tells me to wear and go to a job everyone but me wants me to go to. And on top of it all I feel like death. I eat super healthy and take crazy hippie supplements every day, and I still get sick. When I get sick I eat even more healthy and try crazy hippie remedies like inhaling apple cider vinegar and drinking garlicky tomato juice. All the time wondering why why why does it hurt so bad when I'm ill? Why why why do I get ill as soon as I'm well, and why why why can't anyone help me. My left nostril is completely plugged. My eyes burn. I can't find my visine. TO be honest, I haven't really looked for it. But I've drank juices and smoothies and emergencies and got lots of rest and why isn't that enough. I have work to do, the Lord's work and always I am sick. I have relaxing to do, and fun to have, but always there is a cold or migraine or backache to control my activities. Doctors only make it worse and complaining only turns people away. I think of radical ways to end the pain. Scratching nooses and bitter tasting pills, chalky on my tongue. . . but those methods are frowned upon.

 

I am bitting my nails again!...how many times have i told myself to stop! Ive been chewing on my nails evers since Ican remember. How did it start? and why? Those are very good questions. Questions we All ask ourselves. Why are we Always questioning ourselves? The truth is thats what we humans do. We question. That is the only freedom we have the ability to wonder about the unknown. Who can stop the creative mind...there is an answer to all of our questions...sometimes we know the answers very well we just prefer the comformaty way of life. Do what you see and be who they want you to be. I want to chew my nails becase im nervous because thats who i am a messy nervous wreck. Thats what others have told me. But i myself know me very well and i know i have issues i know my emotions are a little mixed up. My thoughts sometimes dont make sence. I choose to be the person i am...and yet as i type all of this my mind cant help to confuse my thoughts and make me wonder who really am I? What is my purpose on this earth?...As long as the world keeps questioning wether viewed as dumb or insignificant you should always keep the flame in your brain burning...enlight your mind body and soul. Fear is biggest poison to human body. I think we evolve thru wonder and curiosity. That is our freedom.

 

posative thoughts. they bring about good things as far as im concerned.ever seen the movie the secret? it says the law of attraction works throughout the entire universe. whatever you think about is attreacted to you so if you think posatively you will get posative things from the universe. i dont understand why people complain. i can understand once in awhile but alot of people complain ALOT and i dont see the point in it. ive always beeen a posative person and when bad thigns happen, sure it sucks and ya mayb you comaplain a bit but theres a time to let go. i dont even see the point in complaining. if something bad already happened, your bringing it up over and over and it makes you upset everytime you think about it. im convinced you can find something posative out of every situation. if you find that posative thing in any situation that you wont have need to complain. and you wont bother everyone around you with your bitching. i may sound harsh, i admit i complain but im pretty sure everyone knows someone who complains way to much and its just anoying. i dont get the point of being negative about something for a long time, move on and find something to be happy about. im pretty sure you would rather be happy than upset or negative. sometimes its ok to be upset obviously things bad happen and yes its sad but theres a fine line of greiving and anyoing complaining.
energyyyy

 

OK, I'm a bit late in joining up but here I am better late than never.

13 minutes...time starts now.

Looking round the room tells you a lot. It's a place to sleep, to keep the rain out. Not to live.

Four eyes stare down from the top shelf. They always do. Never changing. From behind a frame bought God knows where, covered in dust God knows how old. A memory God knows how distant.

The air is old too. Stale with cigarette smoke. A million butts poke from under the bed. Not even an ashtray. Half empty plastic cups of beer randomly spew their rotten fumes, consumed in anger, left unfinished in disdain.

White carrier bags overflow with empty peanut packs, crisp packets, spicy seaweed, and an array of snacks that have long replaced proper meals. They gather by the locked door, under the shade of the cobweb filled fly screen, made from stainless steel that's somehow stained.

A sea of dark greens, navy blues and faded blacks spread from the wardrobe in waves, threatening to swamp the entire floor.

Everything is out of control. Living a life of it's own, while I sleep and wake, then sleep again. A neverending cycle of disgust.

How can anybody live here?

 

It's strange how easy it is to forget. To forget the beauty of the world. Like rain on the sidewalk we slip into the cracks, leave the light behind. We get swallowed in darkness without even realizing it. It's tough because it seems like the sidewalk is sloped downwards, and we have to fight gravity to keep from sliding into the cracks at the bottom. It can take a while to see again, to re-emabrace the wonder of everything around us, to find our way out of the darkness. Some of us never get out again.

I would be lying if I said I was fearless because more than anything I don't want to lose myself in the cracked pavement. I've been down there and I know that it's an endless abyss, a black hole, it sucks you in and you have to use every bit of your being to claw your way out again. I've seen the sun and I know that it is infinite too, the lighter side of the world. We're all flowing along together in a stream and if we lose each other we could slip in and get lost, endless beauty just above us, just beyond the lip of oblivion.

 

10 min

i dont always know what to talk about. though there are a million things that go through my mind. somehow blank pages scare me and scatter my thoughts in every direction. i pause. and smoke. does it make me more creative? no. but it makes the words flow fast and with an ease similar to the rings floating away from my pipe. i have two babies. cats. practically my children. they play out on the patio in the clouded memorial day air. there mama flies no flags, she has none but greece, scotland, and rainbow to fly. she does not believe in american anymore. she does not believe in her homeland and its destruction of baghdad, city of peace. this is me. but america is founded on freedom. the declaration of independence calls for a strong and heavy responsibilty of all citizens. to speak out against a government they do not believe in. it is not just a freedom, but a weighty responsibility. our right to free speech. freedom of expression. i choose to express on this day of memoriam. my utter and complete support of all our troops, and my sincere hope that they can soon return home to their family and loved ones. but i cannot fly the american flag. i firmly believe our leader has led us astray. i honor the fallen on this sacred day. but i cannot fly the flag, til the stars and stripes have returned. what our leader has done is worse than burned. the flag has been swiped. eminem says, "washed out and wiped". reclaim our flag as america's people. fly it from your patio, from your window, from your steeple. do honor to those fallen to protect our speech. demand the truth, continue to talk, continue to put knowledge within reach. of the poor, and the disenfrachised, the one's who don't know. pick up the banner of the people who declared us free. march for the causes that affect you or me. and fight on into the night.

 

10 min.
Cool air slips in from under the door. Some one out there has a fan on.
I smell meat cooking, and my stomich growls with anticipation.
The plastered walls around me are a smogy yellow from tobaco smoke. The carpet is flat and worn from years of boots and shoes and sandles and bare feet treding to unknown and forgotten destinations.
Room mates primal scream; "FOOOOOODDD!!"
Time to eat. But I think I will type, instead. Though chances are there will not be anything left when I venture out there.
I can imagine the tables picked dry by the looming vultures that are Alex and Mel, the room mates.
Oh no. The black dog at my feet has just farted.
I know longer bask in the waffing scent of chicken, only the pungent, dull aroma of an old mutts ass.
Times up.
Let's eat.

 

Darkness,

Taking away from all the distractions it has allowed me to assemble my own images behind my minds eye. Without the darkness I would be blinded by the useless and unneeded that I create for myself in my day to day life. Instead of being washed by light, I let it by the pulling force from all things that would otherwise leave me depressed and numb at the end of the day.

It is darkness that clears the way in my head for her component silence. The darkness closes the doors that silence cannot. It leaves me with a void free for me to fill with images only to be illuminated on my command, at my time of choice. When my mind has been cleared enough to be noticeable, that is when I'm ready to grant myself the ability to be a small god in world of my head. I can pull the darkness in a controlled manner slowly allowing the light to creep back in shining on only what I see fit.

As the darkness is pulled away and the light shown on those few things I deemed worthy, it fills the void. I hinder my minds vacancy from images and thoughts of sorrow and discomfort as a five star hotel would disallow those not on the VIP list.

My mind is my world. There I am no one and everyone. I'm the one with no name, the one who commands the darkness and brings mind, body, and soul to peace.

Thank you darkness...


(Okay... That was five minutes... That felt good.)

 

10 min
On laziness

I am really lazy or at least i want to be. I just want to laze about the whole day doing nothing, sitting on my bed under the fan enjoying the breeze, the summer sun outside, a glass of coke, a joint of weed, a few friends, working out... relaxed and letting go.

That's how I picture my life. But its not that easy. I have a crack in my heart, one side is lazy the other is energetic and wants to do things, wants to talk. I want silence and peace but there is extra energy in me that won't let me do lazy things.

It's blocking my laziness within. I close my eyes, and detach myself from the world, just writing lazily on the keyboard under the timer, detached from the whole world like I am under water and everything around me is muffled and cloaked beneath a cloak of heavy silence. I feel my breath slowing down now, and all my muscles relaxing. I feel the bright day ahead of me, totally calm and in control, spontaneous, natural. This is unplanned. I am just doing it. Indifference. Emotionless. Calm. They are the tools of the meditative practice. Yet I am not that. I am like an awkward embarrassing ten year old.

Laziness is not simply being passive, but is rather a deep joy inside that makes everything in the world pale in comparison. You just want to experience the deep joy within and tune out the rest of the world. Play a few games, watch some t.v, take a walk. Enjoy being lethargic and slothful, indolent, no matter what people tell you.

Have a jug of sweet tea, sipping quietly every now and then as I play around on my laptop, searching for information... on spiritual and mystic experiences. Smoking weed makes me lazy so no meditation for me. Every moment is meditation as long as you are aware.

I think there is nothing I can really do. Nothing to change. Just be more aware moment to moment. Forget all the goals all ambition, just enjoy, lazing about your life.

Yes, be lazy. I think I'll go drink some water now. Even though the timer is not up I cannot continue anymore.

But I'm forcing myself, I don't want to do this. It feels wrong to force in any situation. But all my life I've been forcing myself to accomplish things. I just want it to stop. I want peace and effortlessness. Forget it all.

 

you let out the demon in this cage, smack me and get upset when i get enraged. fuck you. i did what felt right inside. you said you cared and you believed that everone should try and identify with everything. You lied to to yourself and you lied to me. dont call yourself a person, you're a thing. if you wanna see true pity ill give you a mirror. i wanna fuck up the feelings you have inside so that you can see how miserable you made me. i wanna fuck you up right now and right here. while smashing your head against the cement, inside me it stirs a great movement. push you into a hole, bury you alive. you fucking whore, thats what you get for raping my soul.

 

waiting, and waiting and waiting. I keep waiting for love to walk through my door. But it never comes. I dont want to let my heart go, it hurt me so bad once I dont want to feel that pain again. And here I am 9 years later feeling the same way i felt when I was young. i have guarded myself so well, held back tears, built a fence around my heart. Never letting anyone in, and then someone started taking the bricks down from my wall. One by one they started to crumble until there are no bricks left. My life is filled with dreams of the future. It has been so long since I thought f a future. Insecurities are running rampent in my mind, does he love me to, what if I fuck this up again, I dont want to hurt, but the happiness is so much stronger than my fears.

 

7 minutes.

There really are things which I can't decode.

It's been like this for a while. Others, even, might have alluded. It had gone worse when I realised that this is the only thing that I seem to be thinking of. And here I am, stuck in this pell-mell, troubled by the actuality that I am, without a doubt, vulnerable to this subject. In contemporary, some say that it is the feeling of being in love. But, I beg to differ.

How can you say that you love someone when you have no goddamn idea who they are? It is not love. It is only a crush; just a normal, silly, little infatuation... and I can grow out of it. And I can force myself to stop this emotion. Truly I can.

But, why didn't I?

 

10mins

what to write about in 10mins... whats the first thing that comes into my head? my therapy session...

i started to walk down the winding stair-case... slowly... as i got deeper, the air became colder and darker... there is a damp smell.... i am afraid but i must keep going down,,,, my feet touch the floor at the bottom of the staircase and there is a lit candle on the round table next to me.... i pick it up and hold it out so that i can see what is before me..... a corridor with doors.... choose a door... i walk along the gorridor and go into the first door i come to... i know that on later visits i will eventually enter all the doors and as they are identical and aren't numbered, i will only remember them by entering them one at a time.... i open the door and step inside.... there sits the decomposing body of my grandfather.... he is alive and his chair creaks as he starts to rock back and forth.... then, all is as it was when he was alive, only i am safe over here and he over there... no more decomposing flesh but a man, sitting across from me in an armchair... i ask him...
""why?"

 

jesus T

 

I write poetry to get my emotions out in a forward way. Many of the poems are really depressing or sad...and most of them involve my heart. However, a lot of times I suffer under the surface...and to mask that I write in my book. I express emotions in a less forward manner....and I guess it's not really detectible unless you know me well or....you're just good like that lol I ramble a lot I've always been that way. My mom says I open mouth and insert foot. I know. Sweet. But I love to write and writing in random places gives me a thrill. I write on my desk in class or on my wall where no one can see. Sometimes I think about someone finding it and readingit and hoping it will give them joy...or make them think back on life. Often when I write on things in public places, I write joyful things...things that are inspiring or heartfelt...not usually the sad things lol I don't generally like spreading sadness. Spreading love is so much more....happy!! I think too much and don't make sense all the time or to most people, but because of the people that I make sense to or inspire, it is worth it!