March Slice of Life – Day 26: Y

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Today is Day 26 of the March Slice of Life – the daily writing challenge hosted at Two Writing Teachers.

 

Y is for Yesterday

When I think of my yesterdays, I think of two quotes that point to two aspects of one’s yesterdays:

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.  Albert Einstein
Yesterday’s the past, tomorrow’s the future, but today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.  Bill Keane

Yes, yesterday is the past, but we do need to learn from it.

When I turned 65 in January (just writing that makes me feel old), I decided that I would start writing a memoir by recording my memories.

I had read Natalie Goldberg’s Old Friend From Far Away and was very taken with her book about writing memoir. Throughout, she shared her own memories/stories and provided 10 minute exercise to prod our memories and get our stories down.

As she said in the intro:

Write down who you were, who you are and what you remember.

I really like that notion of growth – who we were and who we are now.

Her first exercise was to just pick up a “fast” pen and write for 10 minutes, using one of several sentence starters:

I am looking at…

I am thinking of…

I remember…

And then, to do this several times.

Over the past month or so I have been using the last sentence starter and have created a long list of things I remember. Some I have expanded – some even for this year’s SOL. I am always amazed at what I unearthed.

But at times, the memories are so faint or even non-existent, it scares me. I want to remember and I want to learn.

I aim to keep turning to Goldberg’s book for inspiration as I continue to write about my yesterdays.

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8 thoughts on “March Slice of Life – Day 26: Y

  1. I have not looked at this book – thanks for the idea. I reach that birthday in June and am wondering about it. At times it feels old and other I feel I still have so much to learn and do. Thanks for your post today.

  2. Sometimes those faint memories become stronger as I poke around at them–the smell of propane gas in our rented cabin brought a niggling anxiety–what was it reminding me of that made me anxious? Couldn’t put my finger on it. So, I just started writing about the odor and the tightness around my heart. Eventually, a memory began emerging. Lots of times, though, nothing comes of it but a page full of throw away. Keep plugging away. 65 is young today.

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