The following post is a Story Work exercise from the weekly series that is for paid subscribers. Going forward, I’m moving this series from Squarespace to Substack and by becoming a paid subscriber, you will receive reflections and exercises like this in your inbox every Sunday night at 8 pm et, plus access to our monthly group journaling session, The Practice. If you are interested in receiving this weekly flow of self-reflection ideas for your writing practice, and more access to a creative community, consider becoming a paid subscriber.
The first time I saw the movie Purple Rain, I was sitting on our orange and brown paisley-print couch next to my big brother with a blanket draped over my head and my hands over my eyes. I knew how to position the blanket and my hands perfectly, so my ten-year old eyes could still see the scenes I wasn’t supposed to see, like Apollonia stripping down to purify herself in Lake Minnetonka. I didn’t understand much about the movie at the time, but I was intrigued with how it made me feel: womanly, worldly, sexual. When I hear the Purple Rain soundtrack, I’m back in my pre-teen body, on that couch, my hips wiggling, feeling the urge to grind and pulsate with abandon, just like Prince.
Songs from the 80’s transport me to a simpler time, to younger versions of me. Music is a powerful source of nostalgia. Think about how you feel when you hear a song that transports you to a different time. Maybe it’s a song that reminds you of a person, place, or season in your life. Maybe it makes you feel warm, sad, innocent, or wild. In addition to movies and music, these feelings can be awakened by familiar smells, photographs, pastimes, or traveling to a place from your past.
The definition of nostalgia is “pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again.” The word comes from the Greek language, with nostos meaning homecoming and algos meaning ache.
I’m at a point in my life where nostalgia is this transcendent force that comes over me and carries me away to different times in my life more and more often. I’ve been thinking about how nostalgia relates to grief and loss, and how they both involve longing and melancholy, but they’re definitely not the same.
According to research, nostalgia offers solace in the face of loss, and relief in the form of love: “Nostalgia is uniquely positioned among emotions in offering a bridge from loss to love.”
From a creative perspective, nostalgia can channel memories, inspire stories, and foster connection. It’s a helpful tool to use in personal storytelling when you want to convey a spectrum of feelings when remembering people, places and events from the past. The idea is that nostalgia provokes intense emotions and this is a captivating way to engage readers.
Let’s explore this in our reflection exercise for the week.
Exercise:
Write a reflection about you or a character turning the pages of a photo album, listening to an old song, cooking a meal from their childhood, or some other pastime that brings up feelings of nostalgia. As you’re writing, think about nostalgia as a bridge from loss to love. Challenge yourself to include emotive descriptions and specific details to awaken this emotional response in yourself and in a potential reader.
What is Story Work?
Story Work is the name of my current book-in-progress and it describes a process of reflection, reclaiming, and reimagining. It involves looking at your life experiences as creative material that you have the power to shape. When you see your life as a story full of turning points and transformations, you can use creative thinking to reshape narratives that don’t serve you. By cultivating this ability, you can uncover compelling storylines and new visions for your life. My coaching clients and paid subscribers receive Story Work exercises every Sunday night. The topics cover universal life themes, with references from literature, philosophy, science, and spirituality; offering perspectives that spark ideas and get you writing.