Write about the day that brought you here.
Mythili Nair, 2T2 PB
“Write about the day that brought you here.”
We were given this writing prompt virtually; a group of people whose paths might not have otherwise crossed if not for the Zoom meeting we were all attending. Columbia University’s Narrative Medicine program was hosting a virtual group session grounded in the practice of narrative medicine as a means to encourage reflection, engagement, and connection during the pandemic.
Narrative medicine, a field pioneered by Dr. Rita Charon, applies principles of storytelling and listening to the practice of medicine as a way to honour the subjective experience of ourselves and others. The field is vast in its application and utilization, but it is fundamentally grounded in methods of close reading and reflective writing. Together, these techniques promote empathy, collaboration, and resiliency. Narrative medicine is often used in a clinical setting to better understand and unpack the nuances of patients stories. However, in this workshop, its goal was to promote self-reflexivity and to connect with others around the world in our shared experience.
I dove into the writing prompt, set with a four-minute timer and instructions to write freely and without editing.
Today was the day that brought me here. Frustration is simmering in my chest and bubbling over every time I try to think or speak or do.
This period of time has ushered in uncertainty the world over, and has provided excellent fodder for anxious thoughts to take root and fester in my brain. The constant barrage of news combined with social distancing and occasional loneliness has left me weary and tired. These feelings blend together with the profound fear I have for the safety of my loved ones and the futility of being sidelined as a medical student, as I know just enough to fear for the safety of everyone, yet not enough to be of help to anyone.
It colours my every move and leaves me feeling tired and drained, unable to tend to anything besides the demanding, monstrous feeling in my chest.
Engaging in workshops such as this one gave me the room to pay attention to what I was feeling at the time. Being handed a prompt, a timer, and the instructions to write without thinking, without editing, and without feeling the pressure to share helped cut through the noise—which says a lot considering how deafening the world is right now. Carving out the time to write has provided me refuge during this tumultuous time as my mind plummets into the depths of uncertainty.
I needed to tend to something else. I needed to nurture something else. I needed to nurture something else. I need to incise and drain the festering abscess and fill its place with kindness. Patience. Grounded peace.
We invite you to join us and get a small taste of this experience as we connect from a distance. Sit down, set a timer for five minutes, and write whatever comes to mind: keep your hand moving and thoughts non-judgemental. By doing this, we hope to give you space to honour wherever you are at in this moment, and also to see different perspectives by paying close attention to what others have written.
A few or our suggested prompt ideas:
Write about a time when you had to trust.
What do you carry with you?
What are you waiting for or where do you have to go?
