Soaking in the Spirit of the Creative Self
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
9:30 – 4:30
Comments during the workshop itself between a few participants.
It has the feel of a chapel here. Neil
I already got more from this workshop (after the first exercise) than I thought I ever would have. Leanne
This type of experience is very special, and very rare…it doesn’t happen very often at all and I feel like I want to point it out and give it reverence. Leanne
The energy field that we step into when we step into the muse has a higher intelligence that can be called God. It brought us all here through its divine will. Greg
It isn’t common that everyone in a group resonates as strongly as we do, and when we do, it is safe to express our most delicate essence, and it is divine. Barbara
….do you think we are there now?!! Neil
The wonderful syncronicity of Neil having written and sharing his Mary Magdaline poem after you read your lovely poems. How it brought tears to my eyes and your eyes and everyone’s heart was crying inside with the joy of truth. Greg
How wonderfully on the mark your prompts were to allow Leanne to address and unload so many of her deep burdens. Greg
Soaking in the Spirit of the Creative Self
Friday Evening, September 21, 2007 7 – 9 pm
Saturday, September 22, 2007 10:30 – 4:30
These are some of the thoughts that led me towards the soaking writing workshop:
Soaking is something we do to enlighten ourselves. It is something that makes us “better”. By this I mean it opens a door to a state of attention or awareness that we might not otherwise find ourselves in. Making the conscious decision “to soak” can lend us huge experiences in the sensory side of things.
To bring myself to a “state of attention” I often decide ahead of time what I will do, where I might go, to find myself an adventure that could leave me reeling in the senses.
One of the things I did when my children were very young was to take them to the Legislature Grounds here in the city. Autumn is a lovely time of year for me and the vibrant colors and changing patterns of the foliage have always fascinated me and held me in its grip.
Autumn is a time of transition and I like the way the seasons know each other so well and are respectful of one another. Perhaps it is the same in our writing. We pass through seasons that have us writing prolifically and then suddenly we come to a place where we feel everything inside of us has dried up and our role as writer is over. We become despondent, we worry, we become anxious.
But perhaps these times of transition are necessary. We refuel ourselves in this time, we funnel other things into our path and later, when the buds of the creative muse begin to flesh us out again, then we have an inner resource to draw upon…and from.
And so taking my children for a romp in the leaves was a conscious decision to embrace this time of transition. But… instead of finding myself only absorbing the quieter time of year, I found it firing up a new writing season.
We raked up these huge piles of leaves and then ran through them, jumped, frolicked and generally began a relationship with the vibrant colors.
When you lie down in leaves, cover yourself with them, you become intimate. You can feel them sneaking up your sleeve, crackling against your collar, sliding between your fingers and getting caught up in your shoe.
You smell this earthy pungency that envelopes you and you know you are laying yourself in the midst of something so alive, so powerfully connected to the universe. And in lying there, the leaves allow you an insight you would not otherwise find.
This is the poem I wrote out of that moment of soaking in the ambiance of leaves with my children.
Leaves and Laughter
I am caught up in leaves and laughter
Leaves are my companion
and they would sooner crackle with mischief
than allow me to settle down in my pain
I run to them eagerly
fling out my frustrations in henna and fuscia
gather their laughter in piles beside me
then scatter excitement to tumble around me
descants of crimson and rose entertaining
pleasure me into the warmth of their color
and graze my cheek
with the edge of their copper
if I hold out my hands
they fall into me
gently
when leaving I tuck them into my pocket
pressed soft in my palm to carry them with me
and when I need laughter
slip in my hand slow
draw them out careful
sit down
and hold them
forever and always
leaves are my passion
And so this experience was my way of heightening my senses…of presenting something to myself out of the ordinary. I do this so that I will find something unusual within the usual.
By this I mean it is easy for us to write generic poetry or pieces of work. We can take a huge theme of autumn and leaves and say little else in our words except to repeat over and over “the season fills me with wonder”….”autumn is so beautiful”….and there is nothing wrong with those sentiments. But how much more powerful to express “why” the season fills you with wonder. The old rule of show me, don’t tell me, applies over and over to our writing.
Use specifics. Find the “unusual” in the usual. Choose perhaps one small sentiment within the huge scope of autumn , rather than the full and broad theme itself.
Pay attention to detail no matter where you find yourself. Don’t move onto another detail until you’ve soaked in the first detail. Let it line you inside, wear it like a cloak…then move on to the next detail. Soaking is a lengthy process and one that is not easily rushed through.
Soaking in the Spirit of the Creative Self
Saturday, September 29, 2007
St.Albert
9:30 – 4:30
This seemed to be a popular workshop and here I was again, leading one in St. Albert…a small group…
but it makes for more intimate conversation and a feeling of ease and comaraderie that sometimes is missed in a bigger group.
Soaking in the Spirit of the Creative Self
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
9:30 – 4:30
Soaking in the Spirit of the Creative Self
Saturday November 17, 2007
9:30 – 4:30