When I arrived at Faith’s Lodge yesterday afternoon, the ground was covered in fresh snow, the sky was that brilliant winter blue, and the sun was illuminating the Aspen trees exactly the way it did last year—as if their peeling bark had been engulfed in white flames. I took one deep breath of cold fresh air after another.
When I got to my room, I turned on the fireplace, and then I took a few minutes to just sit in gratitude, appreciating the quiet beauty of this place.
This retreat is not really a retreat for me—I’m in charge, so I’m wearing my teacher and coordinator hats—but this year I’m also going to try to dip into my own writing, to steal a little time in front of the fireplace with my laptop (or rather D’s laptop—Thanks, Babe!). I, too, need to remember what it feels like to play with words, to write myself into discovery.
The women on the retreat are amazing, as they were last year, and when we meet and they read their words, I’m astounded not only by their vast abilities as writers, but their honesty and bravery. What a gift to facilitate such an amazing group of writers.
I hope that by the end of the long weekend, everyone is rededicated to their writing, ready to move in new directions and approach their work with fresh eyes. I hope I’ll feel that way, as well.
So now I’m off to the fireplace to steal a forty five minutes for myself.