At the end of June I hosted my seventh annual in-person writing retreat, five days dedicated to Nourishing the Heart of Your Writing. An important step of the retreat process is to integrate and consolidate the insights and learning that arose – the process of bringing it home – as one of my mentors likes to say. As an experienced retreat leader and participant, I truly believe that the retreat begins when you leave.
And now, for the true confessions.
As a writer, I am fickle. Sometimes I need to hole up in my studio and be alone for days. Then my energy shifts, and I want to share and be in the presence of other writers. In conversations with others, I hear similar patterns. “I’d join a writing group, but I mostly prefer to write on my own.” Followed by, “I’d love to be part of a group where I can share my words in a respectful circle.” In response to this knowledge, my programs offer a balance of time alone and time to share, with the reminder that, “you always have the right to pass”.
What I’m Learning About Myself
As a facilitator, I engage in the retreat process along with all participants. That means I also write to each of the prompts/sentence stems, and share my fresh writing in the circle, no matter what my inner critic might be screaming. In the interests of transparency – the true confessions part – I will share excerpts from my last piece of retreat writing. The prompt was: “What I’m learning about myself ….”
What I’m learning about myself in this retreat is that I am still quick to assign a “shit level” for my writing, especially in relation to the powerful words I am hearing within this circle. And I’m learning – continuously learning – about the importance of committing words to paper, followed by reading aloud. In this retreat setting, I have been reminded about the joy of writing together in person, of being in the presence of others, co-creating our circle and everything that arises within it.
A Moment-to-Moment Way
During these five days, I have felt confused, lost at times, uncertain. I have found certainty in a moment-to-moment way, the way words emerge one at a time, creating their own coherence. I could not envision the final result ahead of time. This is a profound teaching. Affirming that I don’t have to “know” what’s coming, or to fully envision what I am creating. In fact, this is my writing style. I’ve seldom been able to create an outline and write to that structure. I am learning more about how to accept my style, to stop fighting my process, and allow a steady emergence. This is a time for one movement followed by the next movement, guided by my heart, my intuition, the Divine, and possibly my ancestors and descendants. The lineal thread of my heritage – our heritage – running through me, urges expression.
Yes, within this retreat I have been uncertain, joyful, moved to tears, attentive, spaced out, surprised, curious, and so much more. As facilitator, I have been focused on the process, guided by what has been shared, trusting that what I offer will land in a good way with each person here. I have been open, trusting that our retreat container is flexible enough to remain whole with exit and re-entry. In this way, our retreat has been unusual, and I’ve learned that respect for each person’s timing outside of retreat can be accommodated with intention.
I cherish the words beyond words that have arrived and savor the beauty beyond beautiful.