I do not see myself...
forgetting about this fresh fruit salad!
By Chris Dunmire
This weekend I had the great pleasure of attending a writing workshop at Womanspace in Rockford. This is the course description that enticed me to participate:
"Writershop: Juicy, Sensuous Description:
No experience necessary, only a desire to write exciting, alive, colorful, heart-stirring letters, columns, travelogs and journal entries. Practice using all your senses—sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. Reach for images and metaphors as you write. You may be surprised at the evocative pieces you create that can be turned into poetry or the beginning of a short story."
So I spent a rewarding Saturday morning surrounded by phenomenal women writers at all levels, genres, backgrounds, ages, and abilities. In our small group of about 10, I counted one therapist, two writing teachers, a nun, several art therapy workshop facilitators, an accountant, and several artists who "didn't write" but who were open to experiencing this new, creative experience.
Our facilitator, an extremely accomplished artist, teacher, and writer named Dorothy Bock, led us through the writershop with discussion and prompts and three opportunities to write and share our pieces with the group. This process allowed us to freely explore and engage our creativity and imagination in a validating, growth-inducing space. If you ever have an opportunity to participate in a similar experience, seize it. You won't regret it.
The prompts for these timed pieces (10 minutes) were engaging and good to work with. By time I wrote about a "banana dancing out of its peel", I was in the free-ative zone having fun.
Warm-Up Prompt: I Can't Forget This Place...
Weathered by the hot desert sun and pounding summer monsoons, the adobe building stands firm in its original form in the space it was erected in 128 years ago in 1881.
Even today, the Bird Cage Theatre in Tombstone, Arizona, displays its prowess in structure and content — a one-time thriving saloon, theater, and bordello at the edge of the red-light district in its hey-day, never shut its doors day or night for 9 years.
After the silver mining boom was cut short in the late 1880s (flooded mines), the theater's doors were locked for 50 years. Sealed within this time capsule remained the relics of another era... a travel back in time... an experience of another world.
Prompt: Some of my favorite foods (sensory about smell and taste)
Fresh Fruit Salad
Wedges of luscious red watermelon
Small scoops of slightly sweet orange cantaloupe
Freshly-picked and washed blueberries
Juicy slices of sun-kissed nectarine
A gentle squeeze of a newly-cut lemon
Can you feel the sour teasing your tongue?
How about a lick of lime?
Bits of apple
Cuts of kiwi
and a slivering of star-fruit ...because this salad is out of this world!
Red and green grapes plucked from their bones
A banana dancing out of its peel
Pomegranate pieces
Shredded coconut
A festivity of fresh fruit
A dance of delight.
Prompt: I do not see myself / How I see myself now
(sensory about concrete feeling, not esoteric)
I Do Not See Myself...
Trusting answers I find to my deep longing questions about spirituality and life written on the pages in between the covers of best-selling books
OR in e-mail forwards sent from friends or work associates who pass me by in life asking "How are you?" as a social courtesy without ever really knowing my truthful answer.
I do not see myself...
Understanding cosmic "things" about where I came from and where I'm going after my current stage of life, any clearer, deeper, or more faithfully than the whole of mankind who has come before and currently resides as my contemporaries.
I do not see myself...
Free of pain — of either my own or in being a witness to the sufferings of others. The human condition has endowed me with double-edged receptors that bring both pleasure and pain.
I do not see myself...
Doing, being, or accomplishing any more than anyone else with the desire, motivation, and earnest effort could as a citizen of the planet.
I see myself...
Continuing on as best as I can as time and energy allow — as my passions rise and my creativity longs for a container for its expression.
I will create, I will love, I will live — if only to see what's behind the next corner, today and tomorrow.
— Chris Dunmire, June 6, 2009
© 2009 Chris Dunmire www.chrisdunmire.com. All rights reserved. |
