Writers Respond to the Inquiry Cards

Many years ago I bought a deck of cards called “Inquiry Cards,” created by Sylvia Nibley. Since then, from time to time, I’ve put the cards out on a table for writers to choose a question and write a response. That’s what happened this past week, in three different writing circles; done as a 5-minute warm-up at the start of each session. Here are responses from some of the writers. Perhaps you will want to ask yourself one or more of these same questions (or come up with your own) and see what thoughts rise to the surface.


What Can I Let Go Of?
— Blue Waters

Truth be told, I could walk away from every possession I have. Wave good-bye and start down a new path without much ado. But meanwhile, I still enjoy a lot of kooky collections. Like 11 wrist watches; my lava lamp plus 6 Himalayan salt lamps; my 1,000+ CDs, neatly organized into 10 large leather cases; 15 gorgeous designer empty shoe boxes just waiting to hold some special collection in a very neat fashion; and how can I not mention my 4 gargoyles sitting atop my bookshelves? There is still time to enjoy these treasures, so I salute them all daily and have a good laugh.

What Am I Hungry For?
— Edna Brown

Long dinner parties, ending in long musical jams with loving friends. Long talks, late into the night, without concern for the morning. Long hugs, soothing touches, from friends and family. Long nights, warm spoons, the two of us, in a cold room. Long walks, through the woods, with no worries about the time or ticks, with no destination. Long days, with no commitments, reading and napping on my favorite couch with my favorite blanket, coffee, books. Long weeks or months, spent on a beach, any beach, until I can take not one more bite of the delicious sun, sand, waves, and warm waters.

Where Is Movement Needed?
 — Heather Boob

In between the locked deadbolt
dust and rust have set.
A key has not entered this passage
in years.
Was it lost?
What has been left behind forgotten?
Hire a lock-pick!
Drill a hole!
Get inside!
Behind the door,
once opened,
treasure awaits you.

What Am I Ready For?
— Jamie Swinnerton

Something new, something so different, I am ready for a break, I am ready for security. I am ready to get in my car and go, just go. Buy a tent, be a nomad, toss my phone. Go. I am ready for peace, strong, energizing peace that comes with the confidence that I'm doing the right thing. I am ready to be selfish, to put myself first, to say "No, I won't do that for you.” And then not do it. I am ready to admit hard truths, but to the right people, at the right time, in the way that I want to. I am ready to admit that I'm not certain what I'm ready for.

What Am I Curious About?
— Jim Mazza

Early last year, when my brain had become too full, my mind too tired, and my patience too thin, I made a somewhat unexpected decision — to retire from my 60+ hour-per-week job and live a more gentle life. Now, some six months into my new "lifestyle," I am curious as to why I feel the need to fill up my days with endless activities, appointments, and to-do lists. Why can't I quietly enjoy my new-found time? What change must occur for me to go from always doing to simply being?

What Am I Deeply Grateful For?
— Marian Rogers

The moment
This morning
Quiet light
A trace of snow
No alarm
The dog flipping on his back
Stretching long against my body
His hind feet now by my face
Releasing a secret 
The dusk, dirt, and sweetness
Of outdoors

What Am I Learning?
— Nancy Osborn

That my writing is the shortcut to my unspoken dreams; that being curious keeps me going even though I know I'll never find all the answers I seek; that I need to let words tumble in my brain a bit before allowing them to spill onto paper; that I prefer unlined pages for my travel reflections — somehow that suits the unknowingness of being in an unfamiliar place; that I should allow the waves of life to follow their own tides; that I will probably never know the conclusion to the story of my life that I tell myself; that sometimes things just don't make sense; that being silent and just listening is sometimes the only solution; that sooner or later I will probably forget most of my memories, and perhaps I won't mind.

Where Is Movement Needed?
— Patti Witten

This question may be approached from points of the compass, the cardinal directions and their intervals — north-by-northwest, or just southeast. A southern approach is the sunniest but also may be humid and damp. This is because the earth tilts on its axis, although if the earth could speak for itself it might say “I am not tilted.” Who gets to decide these things? Nevertheless a northern approach is cold and stoic. It is patient and hoary and covered in fur that still smells like a slaughtered beast. That is, it all depends on where one is standing when asked the question.

What Needs To Change?
— Peggy Stevens

Everything — everything needs to change. It’s the 10+ year itch. Lying in bed, looking around, I have fallen out of love with my surroundings. At work, receiving my W-2 electronically, realizing this is the year to find a new job, to give up on the mindless, easiness of what I do. Pump up the blood again — work a little harder, feel good about it. Nothing happens without a little discomfort and that's okay. Let's see where this all goes. Pick one thing, anything, and change it, even if it's only an inch or a foot or yard.

What If I Weren't Afraid?
— Phoebe Jenson

If I weren’t afraid, I would not think that I would die soon or be an invalid. I would go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted, and it would never cross my mind that something bad could happen. I would tell bullies and people that annoyed me how I felt, but that could hurt their feelings. Fear has a function, to help me remember not to electrocute myself or drive fast in the snow.

What Am I In The Middle Of?
 — Rob Sullivan

some might say life
though I don’t intend
to live until 132
no, my wish is
to live until 89
yes, that’s my limit.

I would like to dance and sing
until the day I die
and go with a smile on my face
all debts paid
all encouragements given
all the better
for the living
of this life.

What Am I Learning?
— Saskya van Nouhuys

I am learning how to cook nice things in the Instant Pot pressure cooker. I am learning about my family. I found out that my brothers, both of them, who used to seem disconnected and passive, aren’t. I am learning to write, always. I am learning how to teach in an interactive “active learning” classroom — (it is exhausting). I am learning about jellyfish behavior.

What Do I Really Want?
— Susan Lesser

1. Predictably, health and happiness for all my nearest and dearest, and your nearest and dearest too, just because. I’m also including myself.

2. A cat or maybe two cats. Since Cleo died, nothing ever moves when I walk into the house after a trip to Wegmans to buy a few bagels for breakfast and a wee bit of brie for a before-dinner treat. The house plants never wave to me. The morning paper is sulking in the recycling bin, however it lacks the stamina to grumble out loud. I suppose the fridge does its best to purr, but I’m never fooled. Here’s the big problem —  nobody ever jumps on my lap the minute I sit down on the sofa and says with her gaze that she missed me — before she falls asleep, that is.

3. Changes, but not too much and not too many, maybe something I never thought of before, like a trip to Sicily, but now I’ve gone and thought of that, so it doesn’t count.

4. To write more. My husband says I’m easier to get along with when I have been writing. He could be right.

5. Now I need to throw in world peace. And the end of cruel officials holding positions of power. And for children to be reunited with their parents. And for the environment to be saved. And for the good guys to win. I know who they are.

6. I’m looking forward to some chocolate now.

What Is The Brave Action?
— Yvonne Fisher

I know what it is, the brave action. First, it is to show up, just to show up. To go on, just to go on, despite everything, despite all the bad stuff, the horrors, the despair, the dark days, the decline, the fear. Despite the fear: show up, go on, keep going, be present, attend to things, be attentive, take a risk, be helpful, spread love and kindness in all directions, show up, show up and then take a breath. Remember to breathe. Show up and breathe.

What Makes Me Smile?
— Zee Zahava

I’m thinking about the games we used to play, so long ago. My mother was a whiz at Nok-Hockey. Dad learned a few tricks with the yo-yo. My sister and I spent hours with our Slinky toy, with Mr. Potato Head, and with Etch-A-Sketch. I practiced twirling my hula hoop around my waist but I never learned any fancy moves or hula tricks. We played cards with Grandma — Go Fish, Old Maid, Rummy. When our cousins came over we played Shoots and Ladders or Candy Land; sometimes we played a card game called War. On Sunday nights it was Chinese checkers, those pretty marbles jumping out of the indentations on the tin board. And then it was time to watch “Bonanza.” Remembering these things makes me smile.