reading retreat

100 days later…

100 days later…

May 21, 2020
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A celebratory hour in lieu of 100 dailies in The Creative’s Workshop. An hour in honor of the letter S, in the form of:
Sensational (work, engagement, cohort!)
Shift (what has been the shift?)
Stranger (who was your unexpected stranger and what did they give you?)
Shipping (What have you shipped and what has it meant to you/those you serve?)
Step (Next step? How to continue doing your work?)
Salute (100 dailies later!)

What was it like for you 100 days ago?
Less energy. More lethargy. Ready to step into the land of ”don’t know what”.

What has changed in 100 days?
Me!
Energized. Awed and wowed!
A tankespjärn-community launched. Friendships forged.
INSIGHTS & CLARITY!

Who was your unexpected stranger and what did they give you?
Mary Ellen Bratu and our Reading Retreats, a gift I will carry with me for life!

What have you shipped and what has it meant to you (and those you serve)?
My tankespjärn-community on Patreon. Taking baby-steps.
I’ve truly seen the generosity inherent to shipping.

What’s the next step? How will you continue doing the work?
One day at a time, generously sharing and shipping.

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I. Have. To. Write. About. It. Now.

May 18, 2020
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One of my 12 English books to read and blog about this year, is Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Normally, I never write about the book until it’s finished, which is when I write my book reflection. However, this book, which I am approximately 60% through, has certainly challenged me, as almost not a page goes by without me making copious notes in the margin and the number of dog ears is just ridiculous! I usually don’t mark pages with dog ears, but the best of the best of this book has me crying out for me to make it easily accessible in years to come, and alas, the book probably has 50 dog ears by now….

Anyway, as I was reading this book during my weekly Monday Reading Retreat, a paragraph jumped out at me, and I simply cannot hold it in anymore. I. Have. To. Write. About. It. Now.

”Creating one thing at a certain point in the river feeds those who come to the river, feeds creatures far downstream, yet others in the deep. Creativity is not a solitary movement. That is its power. Whatever is touched by it, whoever hears it, sees it, senses it, knows it, is fed. That is why beholding someone else’s creative word, image, idea, fills us up, inspires us to our own creative work. A single creative act has the potential to feed a continent. One creative act can cause a torrent to break through stone.”

This.
This is what The Creative’s Workshop is to me.
It feeds me.
There is so much creativity just whizzing and bouncing along in the workshop, it’s almost ridiculous, and it feeds me and my creativity to levels I’ve not experienced for many years.

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The reading retreat.

April 6, 2020
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Writing retreats, I’ve done. Alone. Together.
A day, two, three.

But never an official reading retreat.

One could argue I’ve been doing reading retreats ever since I learned how to read, because, to quote my mom, once I did I never stopped. Countless weekends I’ve spent immersed in great novels; laying away many a night, reading, totally engrossed in a story, making me experience life as a Viking slave, an Egyptian princess, a Vietnamese poet, a cave-woman, or explore the vast skies astride a flying dragon in some magical universe, similar and yet so different to my own.

But thanks to a The Creative’s Workshop-colleague writing about wanting to take time to read, I suggested she do a reading retreat, and all of a sudden, we had a date, going from idea to fruition in the space of three days. 90 minutes, over Zoom, all in all, four people, even though two sort of played a relay-game with each other, with one leaving as another entered the room. The Zoom-room.

…to be, without the intent to talk I said when we checked in prior to one reader leaving for another meetup. I’ve done many a type of meeting online, but never, truly, one where the intention was not to talk, but to be, and to read.

And I loved it.

As we shared half-time my co-creator was reminded of a quote by Lynda Barry, who has said about art-making that it’s this thing that we do alone together.

And I loved it. Alone. Together.
It felt so good. You know, like sitting in a room with a best friend, in total silence, and absolute companionship, doing whatever one pleases, but together? That’s what it felt like.

A gift.
One I want more of.

Would you like to join me sometime?

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