This Is My Secret: The Blog and Website of Writer Kristin Cashore

When the news from my own home is so sad, this is all I feel I have to offer: instructions for a metta meditation. "Metta," also known as "maitri" and often translated into English as "loving-kindness," comes from the Buddhist tradition. Here are some links, in case you want to know more about the roots of the practice: Buddhist nun and teacher Pema Chödrön, who's always worth reading, explains maitri/metta here. Over at Wildmind Buddhist Meditation, there's a clear introduction to lovingkindness meditation (check out all the links to the left).  These folks at Dharma Seed provide a number of talks and guided sits around metta. Finally, just to be thorough :), I'll link you to the wikipedia page for Metta. My own practice of meditation, this and others, is secular.

I present here the version of the meditation that I tend to use, written from memory, but I've encountered variations from different teachers, so it may be different from whate…

I wouldn't mind if that's what it said on my tombstone.

So, recently, I got into a bit of a plotting pickle with this thing I'm writing. I just couldn't figure out a particular aspect of the story. In my usual fashion, I threw myself at it, then threw myself at it again, and again, hoping that my self-propulsion would manage to bash me through it, because sometimes, it does. This time, it didn't. Realizing that what I needed was a break, I put my notebook away. For several days, I did other things, anything, provided that it was neither writing nor thinking about writing. From time to time, the writing tried to lure me back. It has a whole bag of tricks it likes to use on these occasions: it tried to make me feel guilty; it tried scaring me into believing my book was in peril if I didn't get back to work; it tried presenting me with a nice, tempting, challenging wall to throw myself at. Every time, just like with a meditation practice, I smiled, noticed what t…

The Spanish cover of Fire, published by Roca (click to enbiggen) ----->

I always feel just a little bit sad right before a big work trip. I think it's because of Bitterblue, or whatever my WIP is at the time. I just want to write her, and it's hard to imagine being able to write her during so much excitement. During my domestic tour last fall, I managed to cliff-hanger myself right before I left, by which I mean that I was able to time it so that I left just as I was getting to a big, exciting, fun-to-write scene. That made it a lot easier to get writing done while on tour, despite all the distraction -- and to get back into writing full-time once I got home. But I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do that this time. I seem to be bogged down in a muddy section. We'll see what happens.

I also get nervous before a trip like this, and so I do a little meditation and imagine myself floating above the earth, and then out into outer space, outside the solar syst…

... and just how big little things can be. (as Prairie Dawn used to sing on Sesame Street)
I would like to stop waking up every morning feeling that (1) I have too much to do; and (2) everything matters so much.
We'll all be dead in a hundred years, so why does it matter if I use "shabby" or "ramshackle" or "tumbledown" to modify "house?" The sun will explode in 5 billion years, so why does it matter if the local or the global economy collapses? Why does it matter who becomes President of the United States in 2009? Why does it matter if a family schism breaks my heart? Why does it matter if someone I love dies?
Sometimes when I meditate, I imagine I'm this tiny, free-floating celestial body. First I float above the earth and orbit it, looking down at all the different landmasses and oceans as they pass. Then I become my own planet, orbiting the sun. Then I break free of that and become my own star, spinning through the Milky Way. T…