Autumn Morning in Brasstown, North Carolina
When I looked at the date of my last blog post – September 8, 2010 – I felt like Rip Van Winkle waking up from a long, groggy sleep. Have I really been absent for more than a year? Where have I been? What have I missed? These are questions for another post.
For now, I want to let you know that my wake up call came at a writing workshop I attended last week at the John C Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC. When I decided to take a week’s vacation to visit a friend who is renting a house in Brasstown, I checked the Folk School’s catalogue. “Spinning Words into Gold” was the only writing workshop offered that week. I weighed my options for recovering from many long months of work, work work – I could spend a week sitting on the porch, staring at the mountains colored in their autumn finery, reading a book, drinking wine or I could stretch my imagination at a writing workshop. The adventurous side of me nudged, “Come on. Let’s have some fun!” So I signed up for “Spinning Words into Gold.”
And fun it was – five days of playing with words under the enthusiastic guidance of writing midwife Maureen Ryan Griffin. Maureen set the stage for our week by asking us to say one of our favorite words. “Crimson” was my choice. The other words offered by the group were sassafras, aplomb, sultry, paramount, sensual, glorify, improvisation. Maureen gave us five minutes to spin these unrelated verbs, nouns and adjectives into a response to the phrase “I have always known…”
I wrote without thinking…
I have always known
That having fun was paramount
To glorifying the sensual
Side of a crimson star
Pinned high atop a report card
And I scribbled…
I have always known
That I don’t know much
And all that I know is an improvisation
Of a greater play
In which I am a tiny part of a greater scheme
I went on and on, ending with…
I have always known…
And I keep forgetting
What I have always known
So I remember again…
That exercise set the stage for a week of discovery. I wrote poems and essays sparked by phrases such as “I remember…” and lists of people and incidents that formed who I am today. We read other writers’ poems, mining them for inspiration. We played with metaphors and memories. Smells (frying meatballs), tastes (peppermint stick ice cream) and sounds (Motown dance music) took me back decades to people and places that shaped my beliefs and habits. I wrote about cars I have driven (and the men who drove me to them.) We posed unanswerable questions then challenged ourselves to answer them.
I left my week at the Folk School reawakened and recommitted to a writing practice, just for fun. Here is the pledge I wrote to remind me to stay awake. Won’t you join me?
Starting HereInspired by William Stafford, You Reading This, Be Ready
Starting here, I pledge to stay awake
to my heart
its wanderings and wonderings
questions whispered in the dark
Where am I going?
How long will I stay?
Who will I meet?
Who do I leave behind?
Starting here, I make a living by living my life
and I know the way forward in starting here.
Here, now, I start what I have begun over and over –
to listen, to write, to read, to be who I am –
That’s a good place to start
and starting happens over and over again
here and now.
Starting here, I hoist my sails,
buoyed by courage
ballasted by fear
that I will start and fail
as I have done before when I started here.
The finish line is usually out far ahead.
Starting here, I leave the end point
at my back.
I am done being unfaithful
to being fruitful -
I bear ripe, juicy compostable fruit
leaving seeds of inspiration
in my wakefulness.
Starting here, I end and renew
Come with me or stay behind -
You choose.
I am starting here.
