• The Pen Is...

  • 著者: Ana & Hana
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The Pen Is...

著者: Ana & Hana
  • サマリー

  • Amusing, introspective, and vulnerable conversations about writing as a creative outlet. Join hosts Ana and Hana as they discuss personal stories, practice writing exercises, and explore everyday life challenges through the art of writing. New episodes are released every Wednesday and are available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and Stitcher. Also, we love hearing from listeners about their own experiences with writing! Please feel free to email us at anahanapodcast@gmail.com.
    Copyright 2023 Ana & Hana
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  • ...Feeling the Holiday Blues
    2021/10/13

    Ana and Hana say goodbye to 2020 and ring in the ever so hopeful 2021. 2021 is greeted with further isolation due to the continuation of the pandemic which is not lost on Ana who is experiencing acute isolation and loneliness during the holidays. Not only is it the very first "pandemic holiday", it is also Ana's first holidays living alone and divorced. In a vulnerable reading, Ana shares a story she wrote on the evening of Christmas night while allowing the depths of grief to take hold. Hana discusses with Ana the importance of Ana's spiritual practice during the holiday season and how she may pass on her own traditions to her son.

    Originally recorded on January 17, 2021.

    The Loneliest Christmas

    I have never been alone on Christmas. Until today. Christmas has always been an occasion where I allowed myself to experience joy, joy in the moment, joy in sensations and experiences, joy in the belief of magic. As a nonreligious but heavily spiritual person, Christmas has become a baffling holiday. My tree, the first one I ever cut and put up on my own, sits resplendent in green, white, and red lights, with hastily tucked presents in various stages of unwrap spilling from beneath. Yet I sit alone watching the cheerful electric glow feeling wave upon wave of nostalgia.

    What is it that drew me to this holiday as a child? There were no passionate stories of baby Jesus told by my family other than the ones told in media, school, or books. My childhood holidays were plentiful but never glorified presents and getting. Instead, I searched for a certain resonance which I ached to find each year. I began to liken that ‘feeling’ to the heavy softness of a pink glowing snowy night. The kind I can stand in and feel every beat of my heart. 

    With each passing year however, I grew older and began to lose my ability to feel that quality of awe and magic - like a relationship growing stale with disillusionment. When I held my newborn son in my arms, I fantasized of Christmas’ to come, of allowing him to experience that same joy and excitement that I once felt. And it is true, at nearly 6 years old he has found that wonder. He still believes in magic and the unknown, still freshly innocent from the skepticism of our modern society that is hell bent on cutting us off from that vital connection of flow and spirit. 

    However, just as important as finding that intangible joy of holiday spirit, is experiencing that joy with others. How I dreamed of hosting Christmas at my home so I could perhaps hold that space of love and excitement for my loved ones. Children excitedly run about the house preparing for the arrival of a strange man. Telling stories to my family, sharing in laughter, food, and memories of Christmas past. And for a time, I had a glimpse of that. I played host. Filled stockings. Laid long tables in my living room for multitudes of guests and family. 

    Tonight is different. This year is different. More people than ever are experiencing a lonely Christmas for perhaps the first time. Many more are coping with past and recent losses of loved ones, of lost lives, of people too faraway to share in the collective joy. 

    I am not a victim. I do not pity myself or think I am in any way special in my solitude. I feel a deep, cavernous sorrow. A grief so heartbreaking it threatens to burst from the pain in my chest. The grief is not just my own and it is not just about this moment in time of lost and far away memories. I am living alone for the first time in my life - I chose to break away from what no longer held me, supported me, and nourished me. And I grieve, as much as if it wasn’t my own choice. 

    As I allow the flood of emotions to rise and fall with my breath, I choose to explore questions I have - before tonight - never considered. How do I experience that purity of innocence, joy, and wonder every day - not just during an...

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    52 分
  • …Putting a Story to Bed
    2021/09/01

    Hana brings her story of a potentially haunted toy to a close and feels the satisfaction and relief of resolving an open task, while treating her character with respect. She discusses the pitfalls of perfectionism with Ana, the experience of falling prey to the allure of procrastination, and the repeated lesson that putting things off never feels as good as finishing them. Finding methods to encourage accountability, breaking projects down into more-manageable pieces, reaching out to colleagues/podcast co-hosts for help - these are just some of the tools that Hana and Ana have developed and are still working on to make the work of writing achievable in their daily lives.

    Originally recorded December 13, 2020.

    A Discarded Toy

    The day was waning, shadows from the trees long against the grass as the girl walked her dog down the lane. Though the leaves had barely begun to lose their green, there was a crispness to the air that hinted at harvest time, morning frost, and the need for sweaters. The dog ran slightly ahead, trotting toward the field in anticipation of the long expanse of grass to run through. Occasionally, she would stop to sniff at a plant here or a pile of dirt there, responding to cues that were invisible to the human senses. They approached the overgrown walkway leading to the field where the dog hesitated, waiting until her companion was with her before stepping into the shade cast by the trees overhead.

    “You always stop at the same spot,” the girl said to the dog, reaching down to give a comforting scratch between her ears as she wondered out loud to herself, “Is there something you can sense here that I can’t?”

    They continued down the path, the dog wandering from side to side until they reached the field, where the girl unclipped the leash and immediately the compact, furry body went flying across

    the terrain in an ecstasy of joy and freedom. As she watched her faithful shadow run in widening circles around her, she felt a slight chill in the air, though no breeze ruffled the tall grasses around her. For a moment, everything seemed to pause slightly, as though the world were holding its breath. The sky darkened for a split second and all sound stopped, then everything started again, so quickly the girl thought she must have imagined it.

    The dog came bounding over from where she had been investigating a shrub beloved by all the dogs of the neighborhood. Panting, she sat down expectantly and cocked her head to the side, waiting for the treat she knew was coming. The girl looked closely at her to see if she had noticed the same odd moment of stillness, but she seemed unaffected or, at least, wasn’t dwelling on it. Shaking her head to clear the fog, she reached into her pocket and held out her open palm to the waiting dog, who eagerly scarfed down the small knot of dried beef before turning around to head home.

    The girl was walking down the tree-lined path behind the dog, lost in thought, when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in response to being watched by someone. At the same moment, the dog stopped, dropped her head down, and began to growl softly, until the girl tugged on her harness to get her moving again. She looked around, but saw no one on the path in front or behind, nor were there any noises of people in the fields and yards hidden by the trees. Once they reached the end of the path where the pavement began, the feeling began to fade until just a faint sense of heaviness remained, echoed by the clouds that had rolled in during their walk back home. The dog relaxed out of the hunting position she had adopted, trotting cheerfully back to the house.

    Walking to the field the next day, late in the afternoon, the girl had forgotten entirely about any strange occurrences from the previous day. The sun was hidden behind a veil of clouds and the air felt thick with cool humidity, the moment of calm before the torrent of rain....

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    34 分
  • ...Finding Its Confidence
    2021/08/18

    Ana gets a confidence boost at work and Hana gives her high praise as Ana learns what her writing "jam" is - writing about nature connection and mentoring. Through Hana's praise and curiosity about the piece, Ana comes to the realization that she can easily and smoothly write clear and concise instructions about how to teach activities. Ana attributes this ease to her many years of teaching children in the method of "Coyote Mentoring" through her nonprofit she co-founded. Ana's writing mentor and colleague helps Ana discover her writing "blocks" by purchasing a book that is designed to help people with ADD type brains to write in logical and concise ways. Ana is floored by how simple it is to reroute and rewire her outline processes by following the simple steps outlined in the book.

    Originally recorded December 13, 2020.

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    37 分

あらすじ・解説

Amusing, introspective, and vulnerable conversations about writing as a creative outlet. Join hosts Ana and Hana as they discuss personal stories, practice writing exercises, and explore everyday life challenges through the art of writing. New episodes are released every Wednesday and are available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and Stitcher. Also, we love hearing from listeners about their own experiences with writing! Please feel free to email us at anahanapodcast@gmail.com.
Copyright 2023 Ana & Hana

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