The Last Hurrah of Summer

Well, it happened. Last night I had my first back to school dream. In my dream, I arrived at school the first day in a grubby t-shirt and blue jeans. When questioned by a co-worker, I realized my error and I had 35 minutes to race home, change, and come back before the first bell. I am glad that I woke up shortly after this to bring me back to the reality that I still have time. Billing my participation in this Writing Workshop as my last hurrah of summer may have triggered my dream. There was a post from a friend that brought me to the realization that I have been going to school since 1967. That's 50 years of back to school dreams. I am wondering if those go away when one retires? As far as I am concerned, they can stop anytime.

As a treat for myself, I decided to attend a five day writing workshop at The Milkweed Mercantile, located at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage. For the last four days, I have had the pleasure of writing and laughing with ten other writers. What an amazing experience this has been! Just having an opportunity to be back at Dancing Rabbit again was a treat in itself. I arrived a month to the day from when I was last here. I talked with many of the people I met during my visitor session. This time, I stayed at the Milkweed Mercantile, where the beds are comfortable, the food is delicious, the cos are friendly, and the space is perfect for writing.

At one point this weekend I reflected on what makes a person a writer. Certainly, we all write, so definitionally, we are all writers. However, there seems to be some connotation that to be a writer, one needs to be published or make a living at it. I thought of this with regard to art. When I was young, I struggled staying in the line coloring with crayons; I draw stick animals in Pictionary. But yet, four years ago, a talented painter friend referred to me as an artist because of my photography. I had never used that term for myself but I tried it on and it seemed to fit and it felt good. I think the same goes for other areas. At what point can one classify herself as a musician? An actress? This all seems to be yet another way that we tend to classify and label ourselves, sometimes at detriment to our own self-concept.

At the Mercantile we had quiet time in the morning to write before breakfast. After breakfast, we had a two hour session of writing. We'd sit in a circle, write to various prompts and then have the option to share. A discussion before and sometimes during lunch broke up the day. After a two hour session in the afternoon, we had some down time to read, write or just take a break. Dinner was followed by a couple hours in the evening with a few of us reading things we had written and receiving feedback on our work. Very full days, with much laughter. Being in such close space with ten other people who have a passion for writing was inspiring. I particularly enjoyed hearing the voice with which people wrote and how each used various elements of writing with their own unique style. I have made a note to myself that I need to do two things: I like to bask in the comfort of being around like-minded people. While it is good to be with others of a different mindset to help us stretch and question, being around those of a similar vein help us to find validation and grow in other ways. I also need to find a group of people with whom I can share writing. Perhaps it will be some online version with some of the people from this group but finding some people locally, face-to-face would be wonderful.

We usually had several prompts to choose from. Some of my favorite were:

I never told you... I come from...

In the water...

We the people...

Write a letter to a body of water.

Write a letter to your older or younger self.

All were powerful ways to get us to reflect. I was particularly intrigued how some of us would choose the same prompt but take it in a different direction.

I took time for many mindful walks around the village. I also went swimming in the pond a few times. The pond here is such a comfortable space. I even attempted to play water polo! While I enjoyed myself very much, I learned that prolonged treading water itself is a challenge but trying to maneuver a ball with some objective is even more challenging. I was glad to be asked and glad that I allowed myself to step outside my comfort zone and participate.

Like many other experiences that have I had in the last year, I find myself extremely grateful that I have crossed paths with such wonderful people. Sharing ideas in this time and space has left me recharged and renewed. The challenge, as always, is to find ways to retain, extend, and live these feelings.