Is soul writing difficult? Perhaps, but since it is an evolutionary process, it unfolds step by step. We should not have great expectations; rather, it is better to have great intentions. Uncovering the meaning of our life, recognizing its beauty, and entering into dialogue with our soul are enormous intentions—and it is good that they are.

We aim for this without expecting it to happen immediately; if we maintain the intention, we will not lose our way too much along the path. Of course, getting lost is never really a problem: sometimes we end up where we were meant to arrive, at other times we enter arid territories, which may signify a pause or the incubation of new processes. We should not worry if the creative source seems to drip slowly and offers no satisfaction; it is normal for this to happen. The process is not linear. If we feel that the gateways to the unconscious and the supraconscious have temporarily closed, we wait patiently. Nothing can be forced. We remain present to the process and continue writing some creative texts.

This is why having at our disposal a rich collection of creative writing practices helps immensely—not only as a starting point for entering the flow, but especially during periods when the flow has been interrupted.

So should we never stop writing? I am not saying that. I have stopped many times, but without ever truly taking leave of the space of writing. Perhaps I was not writing, but my relationship with writing remained an indispensable part of my life. Thus, when inspiration returned, I could resume. (The truth is that sometimes one feels inspiration and still does not write… But that is another matter.)

Let us now speak about working with texts, which is a crucial part of the process. Every time we revisit a text to modify it, we reach a further level of depth or synthesis. Texts are always somewhat works in progress; they are never definitive. They are not bound to the moment or place in which they were born; each new version is a subsequent step on the path toward essence.

Group work can be one stage of this elaboration, but we must be cautious with suggestions that might distort the nature of the text in order to make it more understandable or to make it say things it is not actually saying.

Obviously, perfectionism and vanity must not enter this space. One proceeds until one feels that the text reveals something important. Perhaps, more than artisans, we are midwives…

If we practice soul writing in a group, I think the best approach is to write the first rough version of the text during the meeting and work on it at home. If desired, one can present the text again to the group the following time. No one is obliged to do so, of course. But one might feel the need, if one wishes to see the effect the text has once it is read and received.

What is the most productive feedback that a soul-writing group can offer its participants? This is a crucial question, because there are some pitfalls to avoid. One is being too subjective and basing feedback on personal tastes, so that some texts are liked and others are not. But feedback based on one’s own tastes is insignificant. On the other hand, can we completely set aside our tastes? No, we cannot—but we must focus on other aspects. Objective feedback does not exist, yet it is important to make the effort to enter into the text, to try to feel and understand it. Thus, feedback becomes an exercise in subtle perception. What is the atmosphere of the text? What does it evoke in me? Are there passages that are not coherent with the rest? And if so, do they serve a function as they are, or could something else be proposed? As a rule, we do not propose alternative formulations; it will be the author of the text who does so, if she deems it necessary. But the group can point out passages that feel problematic.

Another constructive form of feedback is indicating passages that could be expanded, deepened, or made more precise. Here again, caution is needed: we must not rewrite others’ texts to make them resemble what we ourselves would have written.

A group that functions well is one in which everyone has a more or less distinct voice; feedback must take individual style into account and be at its service.

In the best cases, feedback offers indications on how to make the text more eloquent, deeper, and more organic. It will be the author who decides whether, what, and how to change. She may also present the text again at a subsequent meeting, if she feels the need. But this will not be the rule. Texts are presented only once; then they return to the author’s workshop, where they will be reworked as often as she wishes, or left as they are, perhaps to be taken up again after months or years.

Learning to give feedback appropriate to the process is not easy, but it represents a practice that matures the group, which becomes a laboratory of growth and mutual support. Let us not forget that soul writing is based on the four functions, and therefore feedback will use all four as well. We may share sensations, reflections, emotions, and intuitions.

A particular case will be cryptic texts, which can become the most fertile in terms of transformation and the most revealing. There will be times when someone will come and say: I wrote this, but I don’t know what it is… Then we can try to discover it together. The author must be careful to select the group’s reactions according to her own inner sense.

Sometimes it happens that a text reveals something to everyone except the person who wrote it, who is convinced she has written something entirely different. These are somewhat delicate situations, but if approached with a spirit of mutual support, they can prove extremely positive.

Thus, soul writing is on the one hand an intimate activity, an inner dialogue that weaves connections among the different dimensions of our being; but it can also be a shared activity that generates great gratification, because together we participate in the process of making soul.