I’ve been at Writers’ Guild Workshops the past two nights instead of spending time with my blog. The first was called “Inner Pilgrimages” and the second “Courting Your Muses.” Doris Ivie, a local poet and psychology professor, led us on writing exercises designed to invoke our sources of creative energy. It sounds kind of frou-frou and I suppose it was, but it was fun and self-informative all the same. It was the kind of experience through which you learn something about yourself that you knew but had never really solidified into thought before.
In one of the exercises, we had to imagine the world was ending in three weeks and make a list of things we’d do in those three weeks, writing without too much hesitation. I know this question is a pretty trite one, but I had never bothered to answer it before. I surprised myself by not choosing to travel. Just about all of the activities I wrote down before Doris told us to stop involve some kind of sensual experience. Here’s my list:
Be with David all the time and with other loved ones
Be in the Appalachian Mountains
Walk barefoot everywhere
Spin around until I’m dizzy
Stay outside as much as possible
Be near beating drums, feel them in my chest
Dance around with children like I did at my wedding
Sing, alone and in a choir, a capella, all sorts of music
Since the workshop I’ve added:
Cartwheel, not just once, but all the way across a field
Don a medieval gown, like in Pre-Raphaelite paintings of Arthurian Legend
Eat lots of ripe strawberries
Hear a choir that sings chants, live
Pet many different types of animals
Go up in a hot air balloon
Watch the sun rising and setting every day the sky allows
After we finished writing, Doris told us to pick one thing we’d commit to do within the next three weeks, even though we have no pre-knowledge of the world ending.
I commit to spin around until I’m dizzy. I know that one’s easy, but it will be fun.