Saturday I
held a local writing workshop.
This may seem
passé considering how long I have been teaching writing for online and
teleclass audiences: is it ten years? Something close to ten years.
I have talked
about wanting to teach a “live” class but never, until Saturday, did I actually
do it. Even then, I considered not following through with it.
What I never
considered was how blessed the participants would feel, the people who were a
part of it: those who wrote, those who listened to each other’s writing. No one
refused to read aloud, each person faced his or her discomfort and read,
unabashedly.
Once again,
the theme to my ReadWritePoem writing surfaced, with my premise being:
Every person
longs to connect with another person. This is the poem I wrote last week, reflecting this belief:
Born
naked, belonging, identical uniforms
Him
with this, her with that, them with –
Otherwise
remarkably universal tags
Forever
stamped with a longing to return
To
some form of uncovered transparency
Where
by skin and in skin and with skin
Alone
we are adored, cuddled, held in
Agreement
with wide-eyed, sacred believing
Disbelief
just because we are – nothing to do
Mirror face blinks, moist-eyed, relieved -
Every person alive longs genuine, truth-filled hearing and seeing of her life in return for the same from another. We want to know each other. We want to share our stories, we want to become community.
The only “problem” is we somehow seem to have forgotten how to be
that community.
With the experience of First Kisses coming to a conclusion, I am left to ponder how its impact will continue to stay alive in me and through me. This diverse group fell in love with each other. This tends to happen when I direct shows: for whatever reason, the shows I direct are remarkably drama-free. The majority of the people work beautifully together with the residual effect being life-long friendships of mutuality, respect and love.
I have decided a big portion of our success is in our coming together, in community, every time we are together. It was the cast who insisted on “passing the energy” each night after I introduced the concept. They never complained it ate into their show prep time. It was the cast who didn’t want to leave after strike, who continued working together. It was the cast who cried as we held hands for the last time. I looked at the circle one last time: everyone holding hands with everyone else without concern if two guys were holding hands or a fifty year old held hands with a seventeen year old. We were community, we were family, we were forever connected.
There was a
similar energy in the writing workshop on Saturday. For three hours we wrote,
we talked, we shared stories, we came to know one another differently and more
intensely than we know many people we have had in our lives much longer because
of three things: intentionality, willingness and context.
I have people
asking for more.
I think I
will give more live writing workshops, more opportunities for people to
experience that intentional context of sharing stories and diving into
connection with themselves and others on a deeper level.
Yes.
Giggles rise within me. A small “its about time” rose from my wise-sister side. I hear you, I hear you.
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