Last night I opened the door from my Poetry Celebration cocoon and gasped for air. Waves of fog, rolling in? This early?
I don't think my feet were hitting the ground, I was in such a rapturous place from spending the evening listening to poetry, creating poetry, leading willing people into a creative process and then, joyfully, coming out the other side only to find this loveable nemesis of mine: Fog. How could it be here so early! I was supposed to be driving to outside the fogbelt before its arrival. I had everything planned.
I was supposed to be where the sun is visible to start my perfect square year.
I laughed, albeit quietly, when I realized the fog was holding that wish captive and is somehow a perfect metaphor for my love-hate relationship with this place I have called home for nearly 21 years. The metaphors are quite rich as well, so I am staying present beyond the mystical fog curtain... and will get on the road in an hour or so, no matter what. Well, within reason, no matter what. I think.
I remember that John Lennon quote about life being what happens when we are busy making plans. I think about my long-time dream to start a creativity camp and artist's retreat. I think, "Wow, we did that at the Visible Poetics Poetry Celebration last night." A wide variety of people from a wide variety of places showed up and willingly put aside self consciousness and created, live and in the moment. Collaboratively.
There was one point when I wanted to say, "I have absolutely no idea how this is going to turn out," but I didn't. I gave what I felt were far too vague instructions and shut my mouth. And perhaps prayed a little. I didn't even have to stoke the poetry fire, it started burning wildly right away. I stood back and watched. People were laughing, they were taking risks, they were participating in their unique ways.
I had to struggle to stop talking about the experience when a handful of friends and I went to BJ's after the event where I had my first-ever mojito.
These are my final words as I take leave for the rest of the day. Solo retreat. Quiet, blissful, restful, restorative. Present and planning. Balanced in the what my heart desires and whatever the heck shows up...which turns out to be beyond what my humanness would suggest to me. Playing improv-this-creative-life games.
Sole retreat and soul retreat ~ my intent hasn't changed. I could be retreating in any place. I just so happen to be starting out in a coffee house (other than Dagny's) in Downtown Bakersfield with Greg Allman singing in my ears and Italian roast filling my mouth. I refuse to say where the rest of my day will be spent. I did tell two people my destination, just to be safe.
Thank you for reading and for being my companion on this journey into my fiftieth year. I am so blessed.
Follow Me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot
Recent Comments