It seems like it's a word. It feels like it must be a word. Earnesty? Like, honest earnest? Not earnestly; it's not a verb. It's definitely a noun. Whatever it is, I don't get too earnest here for fear of sounding too preachy, but I think calling it earnesty is okay.
Wow, it feels like forever since we've talked. How you been? Me, comme si, comme sa.... battling a sinus infection, ears full of cotton candy, a short trip to San Diego for huge cousin's reunion and Bar Mitzvah... and... here comes the earnesty... I just had a delicious writing retreat with the Friday Writers. I cannot be reminded enough how crucial it is to retreat. Once again, I was reminded of the everyday sacred, where stories, like life, conceive, sprout, and blossom when we give them our full attention, faith, love, and enough time... a lesson for which I need regular practice.
What did we do? We wrote. We shared. We laughed. We cried. We insighted. We aha'd! We asked. We answered. We gave. We received. We loved. We released the dark. We let in the light. We did it again. And again. And again. Over and over. And that's it. Writing together. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be, but here, now, writing and sharing. That's it.
We sat at a long wooden table, much like the one here at the Beach, in a VRBO out in Prior Lake, a "cottage," on the lake. In between writing we luxuriated. We spread out in the living room on our yoga matts, on the couch, continuing the stories off the page. Some of us took walks. We made a fire. We cooked and ate. We had a Crayola ice cream cake for dessert.
What did we write? We started with a letter from our Sunday selves to our arriving Friday selves, thanking our Friday selves for a great retreat because... "thank you, Rox, for giving yourself time to rest, neti pot, and be present for the gifts shared this weekend...so glad you talked the girls into a yoga class and singing camp songs with you..."
After that we wrote our "dance stories," which led to one of the greatest moments of the retreat. You never know what's going to happen with any given prompt; everyone will go in different directions. One goes to the freedom found in pole dancing, another to the challenges and pride of being a "dance mom," whereas I return to the old Lindy Hop stories. The magic happens when, as listeners, as we receive these unique stories, we begin to truly root for, cheer on the protagonist, love her, feel for her in each story. I suppose this magic is called human nature, but it comes as a surprise every time I find myself attaching to the reader's outcome, the happy ending, no matter how short the piece. By the end of the retreat I told each of the gals why I love them and how much I wish I could spend time in their stories. I realized that this must be an indicator of great writing, feeling like you want to step inside someone's moments, be in their life. After that, prompts were no longer needed. We had the infinite; everything, every word, gesture, breath, presented itself as a prompt.
One of the dance stories led one of the ladies to write an exquisite piece on the father/daughter dance at her wedding. That one hit me like a gong. It vibrated, layers deep, and if she doesn't publish it, I'm going to have to do it for her. You might think, okay, so... what about it? Well... write yours... you'll see.
Not only was it a great story about something millions of women and men experience (some more than once :)), but within the story she also paused to show us why each dance has it's own story. And then it got me thinking how many millions of "everyday" things we all do that we never stop and talk about, let alone write about, ordinary things that can be quite loaded, for better or worse, both or neither in inexplicable ways.
Taking lint out of the drier, the father-daughter dance, realizing you are locked out, running into someone at the market, waiting rooms, power outage, the waitress coming back to tell you what you ordered just ran out, a delayed flight, a motel room, a missing headlight coming at you, being on hold, waiting in line at Target, forgetting to turn on your lights, a stranger smiling at you, getting your blood pressure taken, walking in to a class late, being early... endless, endless....goodbyes and hellos.
And where in the world can I go with gratitude? Endless prompts there. But for now, thanks again ladies. Thanks again all of you. Namaste that.
WRITE WITH US?
What happens/what's it like when you do the same things I do?
What are the same everyday things?
Father/daughter dance?
