Sunday, July 27, 2014

What's Working?

Well, now I know what What's Working means.  It is what we ask ourselves about everything - our writing, our relationships, our spiritual life - whatever!  How much better is that than asking what's not working?  If I learned nothing else from the workshop/retreat this weekend, I learned that.  What's working circumvents that negative talk we often give ourselves.

In spite of my fear and trembling, I had a great weekend at the retreat.  Minton Sparks who was the leader, teacher, director? is amazingly wonderful.  She is a tiny person that is a bundle of energy, enthusiasm, brilliance and hard work.  I do not aspire to be a performer as she is, well, maybe a little, but I do love that I learned many things from her that will help in any writing I may want to do, and in life. 

Probably, the greatest serendipity of the weekend is the people I met.  There were seven of us besides Minton, oh, and one other that I will mention later who was not in the workshop.  We were a very diverse group.  I had names for them, some of which changed as the weekend went along.

There was The Artist.  She was the most difficult for me to get to know.  She is the only one in the group that I sensed was not really being herself, whether because she does not know herself or she just did not wish to share herself.  Unlike others in the group, she seemed more interested in telling you about herself rather than asking about you.  Unfortunately, she had to miss the last session as her mother was ill, for I would have liked to have had another chance at getting to know her, because I could have totally misread that. 

The first person I met on Friday evening, as we sat in the announced but wrong location, was The Joyful.  This woman is just happy, and has taken a turn in her life.  She spent her time before retirement working in the corporate world of technology.  You never would have known that at the get-go.  I did not have to worry about conversation because she could carry her part and mine, and I mean that in a good way.  She told me one day that she woke up, asked herself, "is this all there is?" as she realized her life centered around work and a little family time.  She decided that it was up to her if that was all, and by golly, she decided that it was not, and began to pursue writing.  She is great at details in her writing, wonderful humor, and self-deprecation.  I liked her so much.

The Sweet One, became The Comedienne.  By the looks of it, I would say she was the oldest in the group.  She had this sweet, sweet smile which she used often.  She was hilarious in a subtle, gentle, kind way, and I loved everything she wrote and the way she delivered it.  She is working on a book.  She is an exceptional Two Truths and a Lie player.  The woman can spin a tale that you will believe like no other.  She just reels you in with that sweet smile, just enough detail to make it sound true, and a most innocent expression.  What marvelous traits for a writer.  Loved her!!

There was The Lawyer, who became The Amazing One.  She is 33 years old, a Harvard law school graduate (she did not tell me that, I googled her!), works for one of the big firms in town, humble, brilliant, a captain in the Marine Corp. for 5 years, she has lived all over the world, had varied and amazing experiences, a brilliant writer/performer, sort of bohemian, the glue that holds her family together ~ husband, 6 year old son, divorced mother who lives with her, dad who lives around the corner.  I started out misjudging her (that is what judgment does for you) in the brief session on Friday night, but oh, I am so fond of her and impressed by her.  She is truly amazing.

The Depressed One became The Paper Carrier became The Singer Songwriter Precious One.  When the workshop began, she did not look anyone in the eye.  Her writing that first night (we wrote about our names) overwhelmed me with a sadness.  I felt how truly unfair life is, and it is, but as I got to know her, I saw so many sides of that family in which she was raised, and this life she is making for herself here in Nashville.  She chose to eat pizza for dinner last night in order to eat with The Amazing One and me.  She really wanted sushi, but decided that the company was more important than the food.  I giggled at her when we asked about her song writing and performing and she said she was in a "band of introverts in the basement."  I thought what a great name for a band!  A classmate had asked her to bring her guitar and perform a song for her before we said our farewells.  Of course, we all wanted to hear her.  She was so wonderful, and this woman who could not look us in the eye on Friday night was hugging and high fiving us as we said goodbye on Sunday morning.  "Let's stay in touch," she said.  I plan to.  My life will be enriched for it.

The Contributor Seller became The Wanderer Full of Surprises.  This woman, how I wish each one of you could meet her, will blow our homeless stereotypes to kingdom come.  She was so incredibly intelligent.  I would say she was very well-educated, although I do not know that as a fact.  She, too, is working on a book.  She is a wanderer by her own definition.  She has lived all over.  She came to Tennessee from Kentucky because of the book she is writing.  She lives in a cinderblock room, sleeps on a bedroll.  This morning as she and I chatted while the rest of the class did yoga, I learned a lot about her.  She has a brother who is a doctor, another one who was a nurse but committed suicide.  We had a common bond right there.  She has 5 sons, one of which has died, and the other 4 live all around the country.  Her writing will make you weep, but not because of sadness, but because of the depth of emotion and self-awareness she conveys.  She made deep sacrifices to be in this workshop.  As she said, it meant everything to her to be able to participate.  If you are reading this, and you live in Nashville, go by 28th and Charlotte, buy a Contributor.  You may be able to say you knew the seller before she was famous. 

The last person I will mention is an exquisitely beautiful young woman who was our contact person and source of information for the workshop.  I will say her name, Maddison Grigsby, because she is a professional singer/song writer.  She performed for us on Saturday night, and her stunning physical beauty was matched by her pure, sweet voice and the lyrics of her heart. 

So, all in all, it was a most lovely weekend.  Some of the breathing and Zen-type things caused me to have to tamp down an ever ready giggle, just because that isn't me, but more power to those who find it helpful.  Perhaps, if I were not so buttoned up, I would benefit from it as well.  I learned a few things about myself along the way.  In later posts I might share a few things that I wrote over the three days. You will note that this is not formal writing so punctuation is sort of a vapor.  I will share a short one here written as a result of the writing prompt, "there was dancing involved:"

Mike Farris blasting from the Ipod - cain't no grave hold my body down. 

 The passerby glanced into the large picture window, and stopped as he watched two very young boys and one not-so-young grandmother dancing - with abandon. 

No one else in the word, just those 3.....and, Mike Farris.  The grandmother was young again. 

No prom, no sock hop, no New Years' Eve ball escort compares to the joy found in the presence of these two exuberant, laughing, tiny dancers. 

Well, not a complete thing, but it is a start.

For today, I wish you marvelous experiences, serendipitous moments, new people in your lives, and I wish you

blessings



Thursday, July 24, 2014

Fear and Trembling

Tomorrow evening, I begin a workshop/retreat, that I paid lots of money to attend.  I find myself terrified.  It is a writing and performance retreat.  Well, I thought it was a "workshop" which conjures people in business casual, sitting at desks, taking notes in a neat and orderly fashion.  "Retreat" conjures wild-haired, maxi-skirted (1960's style), orthopedic sandaled, grannies, sitting on pillows on the floor.  They even told us to bring our own pillows if we want.  They are offering YOGA Sunday morning.  Yikes!!

My fear and trembling began when I received a questionnaire from the coordinator of said retreat, and I sensed a bit of touchy-feely-ness in the questions.  Mr. L saved me from a non-creative bio, by reminding me that the required "three lines" did not mean three sentences.  One can get a lot of information in three lines of eight-point type without having to use proper punctuation.  

The first question was: "what's your highest vision of yourself over this weekend?"  What does that even mean?  Are they expecting me to dig deep within myself?  I have spent sixty-two years trying to avoid such a thing.  I really enjoy life on the surface! 

How is this for a question:  "what's not working?"  Well, my dishwasher is making weird noises, I have to use a crowbar to open my front door, the faucet in the tub is leaking, the one in the sink does not bring forth hot water, there is no door on my mailbox, I think I have arthritis in the toes on my left foot ~ is that what they mean?  I don't think so, but what do they mean?

What about this one?  "What do you want your life to look like as a result of the training?"  Well, frankly, pretty much like it does now.  Even though I think the fee for the retreat was a bit steep, I was not expecting a complete life overhaul as a result.  Frankly, I find my life to be lovely most of the time.  I have a husband I love and enjoy, grown children who seem to tolerate me pretty well, grandsons who love me, one of which after breakfast most mornings announces he is ready to come to my house.  What more could a person want? 

So, it is with fear and trembling that I will arrive tomorrow night at 6:00 pm for my Writing and Performance Retreat.  What am I scared of?  SMALL TALK!!! Hate it.  I also do not look forward to any bit of deep group therapy-type stuff with fourteen people I do not know.  That is not going to happen.  Big talker - I'll be the one spilling my guts and weeping.  Can we not just stay on neutral, middle ground?

They are not feeding us meals, so we have to walk to restaurants nearby.  Oh, my goodness, it is ninth grade all over again having to walk by the senior boys' table in the cafeteria as they make jungle noises and nasty little remarks.  What if I have no one with which to eat?  What if I am the only one who does not already know someone in the group?  I have Mr. Lincoln on call Saturday night to go to dinner with me if that happens.  Lunch, I can do by myself, but a two hour dinner?  I don't think so.  Do I sound like an insecure, self-conscious 'tween?  Yes, yes, I do. 

One may ask why I signed up for this dreaded weekend.  I saw the director perform at Tokens.  She totally fascinated me.  Apparently, introvert that I am, I failed to understand the definition of "performance."  The writing part, at which I may or may not excel, is at least a solitary endeavor.  What was I thinking ~ performing?  In front of people I do not know?  Oh, if I could only tell the Andrew Jackson story.  Do you think if I just insert my name instead of ole Andy's  anyone would notice?  Yeah, probably so. 

I am not sure why I periodically feel compelled to step out of my comfort zone and do something that is hard.  I could have just stayed home this weekend, packed for my trip next week, hung out with Mr. L, gone to church, gone to bed by my normal 9:00 time, played with Simmy and Max, and been perfectly happy.  But, I will step out, and as Mr. L says, I will get every penny's worth of what he paid for me to attend.  Definitely, my life will be changed in some way, big or small if I will let it.  I will look for the serendipity in the weekend, perhaps improve in some of the many ways in which I need improvement, and hopefully, be a bit of a blessings to those around me. 

For today, I wish you courage in your fear and trembling, and I wish you

blessings



Saturday, July 12, 2014

Two Questions

Sometimes, I discover that I knew things in junior high school that I have forgotten.  I can remember on some occasions in junior high and high school walking away from conversations because I felt it was unseemly for me to participate in them.  There were many more from which I should have departed than I did, but I will count life's small victories where I can.  I distinctly remember, as an adult with a group of women from church when I did not just walk away, but I said, "I am not comfortable participating in this conversation."  Sometimes, some church women can be the worst in these sorts of conversations (gossip) because they get to hide behind the "bless her hearts," and " she needs our prayers."  We all, in my opinion, need prayers, but our struggles do not need to be casually bantered about, often among folks who have only a modicum of understanding of those struggles, under the guise of "helpfulness." 

Recently, I was caught in a conversation where I said, "I am not comfortable participating in this conversation."  I was told that I was silly, and so I had to admit that might be so, however, my participation in that conversation was not going to happen.  Certainly, in the 62 years of my life, I have said those words not nearly enough, enjoying my sense of superiority discussing another's problems, "for as messed up as my life might be, praise God I am not as screwed up as they are." 

In a conversation with a dear, precious friend, yesterday, she told me something she was going to do for the purpose of saying it out loud, which created for her a bit of accountability.  We rule followers understand that all too well.  She knows that I am not going to check up on her to be sure that she is sticking to her resolution, but saying it to someone, made it real and much more difficult to break for her.  I get that.  Thus, was born this blog.

There are two questions I try to remember to ask myself when I get caught in conversations that make me uncomfortable in my gut.  First, would I say this to this person's face, and secondly, if I were the subject of this conversation, would I feel loved and cared for?  If the answer to either one is no, then I want and need to walk away.  If I am really feeling it, I think I need to say, "this is a conversation in which I am uncomfortable participating."  I am not telling you what you should be doing, but I have every right to let you know that I am uncomfortable, and for my own sense of self and to put forth some effort in some small, tiny way to reflect Jesus in this world, I must listen to what my gut is telling me. 

I do think we all need a confidant, someone with whom we can share the frustrations we feel are caused by others' actions.  I am blessed with two or three people with whom I can share these things.  Otherwise, I might explode...or implode.

There, I have said it out loud.  I have put it in print.  I am accountable to the 2 or 3 of you who read this.  I pray that my knee jerk will be to ask, "would I say this to the person's face, and would I feel loved and cared for if I were the topic of this conversation?"  Until that becomes my default, I pray that I will analyze, and consider before I join the dialogue.

I do not know who said it, but someone said, "speak only that which love requires."  I like that.  If all else fails, then the old standby "if you can't say anything nice, say nothing at all." 

For today, I wish you the power to speak only that which love requires, and I wish you

blessings