My Last Semester at WWfaC

Yeah I been saying that for the last three semesters now. But really who am I kidding. I intend to stay until they yank my ass out of the circle kicking and screaming. Every semester I learn alot - about the women who surround me, about myself and about the writing process that sometimes still baffles me. Every semester has had its own hidden agenda.  

The word “abracadabra” literally means “He has created as he has spoken” – manifestation according to the power of words.

My first semster was very much about having the courage to read my own work, to claim it and name it mine. Stepping foot in that class the first night is still among the bravest things I have ever done.  I learned the power of using my breath to launch my own words into the world. There is something about that simple action that makes the words come alive for me. Lots of pieces about breathing, about breath, about story and the power of words.

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. - Carl Jung

My second semester was to challenge myself to begin to write about the shadow I had just begun to explore inside me. To be able to open the door just a bit and let people begin to see those parts of myself I found repellant. The ones I thought would be ugly to other people too. Lots of writing about pieces, fracturing, and hiding. Funny thing is no one batted an eye. In fact, they gently encouraged me to explore all of what I found in that place.

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it. Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield but to my own strength.- Rabindranath Tagore

By my third semester, I felt much more comfortable with how things operated at WWfaC. Mostly I trusted that every woman who heard my words would honor them. So I relentlessly attacked the work and wrote about everything. If it scared me in the least, it became that weeks topic for writing. Writing centered around piecing things back together, healing, Earth and bones.  

It is a body of oral messages, announcements, prophecies, promulgations, recitals, histories, songs of praise, lamentations, etc., which are meant either to be uttered or at least read aloud, or chanted, or sung, or recited in a community convoked for the purpose of a living celebration. - Thomas Merton

By my fourth semester, I had accumulated enough writing to do the thing that I feared the most - A Greenbook. The writing took care of itself as it generally does. The reading of it was the challenge. I am proudest of that moment when I gently cleared my voice and let my words ring out to the circle.

Girls just wanna have fun.  - Cyndi Lauper

Last semester was just about having fun.  Letting it all out and just enjoying every blessed minute.  I lit that fucker up and scorched it writing about my shamanic practices, my budding incompetence on the bass, and always, always about the deep internal journey.  

A healthy state encourages many voices - and lots of listening. - Kathleen Sebelius

And this semester - that has yet to be decided. But I am in love with the new voices I hear.  What more could I ask for?  

.......about a hundred more semesters!