When Liz had the privilege of attending a poetry workshop with Susan Wooldridge at last year's ArtFest I was so jealous...thrilled for her...but jealous too because that has been a dream of mine. About 5 years ago I discovered Susan's book Poem Crazy. I've read many books about writing but this was the one that really stuck with me. Of all those books this one addressed my particular style of writing. It has been the one that has spoken to and inspired me the most. Over the past five years I have read/worked through the book several times and it is still my favorite. So when I found out Susan was going to be leading a workshop at this year's ArtFest I was super pumped. I signed up for two days of workshops with her and if there had been a third I would have signed up for it as well.
I came to ArtFest carrying a lot of shit with me. A few weeks before the trip I started training for a new position at work. Although it's a good move for me it's tough going from something you feel you knew pretty well to something you don't know anything about. I had also intended to loose a few pounds prior to ArtFest and instead I gained a few. I was feeling very uncomfortable in my body and not very happy with myself. My feelings translated into overeating, beating myself up, and being a total bitch to my family. I was completely miserable and needed a break...I needed ArtFest. I needed a chance to get away and recuperate, refocus and get right with myself.
So I showed up at ArtFest carrying all that in my body (especially my belly and my hips), in my heart, on my face, and down through my bones. Add that to the overwhelm of the first evening and you've got yourself a pretty lethal combination. I walked into the classroom so excited to work with Susan...I even brought her a present. Liz had introduced us the night before and I instantly fell in love with her. She began the class by having us "steal" words from other poets as a way to broaden our vocabulary and help us feel less self-conscious. Then we circled up and she led us through two very powerful rituals. She talked about how words and the meanings of words have become so twisted, misconstrued, and lost and how in the beginning there weren't word as we know them, there were sounds. She led us through a body exercise using the vowel sounds. I immediately felt uncomfortable. I was feeling out of sorts with my body already and trying to get into my body comfortably enough to participate in this ritual was really tough. My anger at myself increased because now I was mad at myself for not being able to let loose and move and flow naturally. I was angry at myself for how uncomfortable I felt. Then Susan, who is a deeply spiritual person, began talking about the Lord's Prayer and what some of the words meant in their original Aramaic translation. She said that in Aramaic the opening words to the Lord's Prayer were not "Our Father who art in heaven" but that it was actually genderless. Something about that rocked me to my core. My eyes filled with tears and I pretty much cried throughout the entire rest of the class.
I've been on this spiritual journey for the past few years and it's taken a lot of unexpected, sometimes confusing, twists and turns. I've so desperately wanted god out of the box I've kept god in for too long. I've wanted a god that was more than I knew god to be. I've discovered little things in other traditions that have cracked open the box but hearing what Susan had to say about the Lord's Prayer, a prayer I'm very familiar with because of my Southern Baptist heritage, was like finally finding something in my own tradition to crack that box open. It tied my past to my present and future and what that meant for me is indescribable. It was a mixture of hope and relief, belief and affirmation.
Next Susan had us perform a body prayer with the Hebrew word for God, "Yahweh." Now I had tears and anger. Tears because my god box was just cracked a little further open and anger because all this hatred I'd been feeling towards my body the past few weeks had culminated into a discomfort that wouldn't allow me to get into the moment. And I was also angry at myself for my inability to not care what I looked like to others as I moved in this body prayer. I've always wanted to dance and move and flow freely but the truth is I'm uncomfortable with my body and I care too much what I look like. I wanted so badly to move the way Susan was, with presence and abandon and confidence. And I didn't have any of those things.
We sat down for our first writing exercise and all of that poured out. It was very interesting the way she had us layer our writing. First we created a word pool from our "stolen" words. Then she gave each of us a pile of word tickets. Next she gave us postcards for some visual stimulation. So we began with a prompt and wrote using our own words, words from the word pool, the word tickets, and inspiration from the postcard images. And as we wrote Susan would come around and lay things in front of us to use as well--additional words tickets, objects, pages from her dictionary. It was fascinating because you had all these sources of inspiration to draw from.
Once we had completed the exercise Susan went around the room and read each person's writing. She does the reading for a couple of reasons: 1. people are really uncomfortable reading their own work and this lessen the discomfort because all eyes are on her, not the writer, and 2. a lot of times when people do choose to read their own words that don't do themselves justice and as a poet, published author, and writing workshop leader Susan is very practiced at reading poetry aloud. I don't know how to describe what it's like to hear someone read your words aloud. It's surreal. It's amazing to hear what just came from your own heart and hands. But I also had a lot of trouble connecting to my words. They didn't feel like mine. And I picked up on things I hadn't noticed while I was actually writing. What I picked up on was all the anger and other shit I brought with me to ArtFest. And I cried when I heard how angry I was at myself.
Once everyone's work had been read, we had a short break. Susan noticed I wasn't quite right and she came over and talked to me about it. I told her what I picked up on in my words and she simply said, "Honey, do you need to cry?" That was the permission I needed to let my tears flow and I cried off and on for the rest of the day. I cried when she read the beautiful words of my fellow poets. I cried when Susan talked about things deeply spiritual and the need to reclaim some things, namely words, that have been lost. I cried after Susan read my second exercise and I cried towards the end of the workshop when everything around me kind of faded away and I suddenly felt really loved, not loved by a particular person, or the community I was sitting with, maybe not even myself, but by something (I'll call it God) within me and around me. It was like feeling yourself wrapped in soft, giant translucent leaves. It was like everything inside of me grew still. It was that kind of feeling you try to hold on to and can't because as humans we get hurt and we believe lies about ourselves, we stumble through fear and we doubt so much. So you do the best you can to hold onto it in that moment, to memorize it, so that in those times you don't feel it you can try to put yourself back into it, you can try to remember what it's like to dwell in that kind of love.
Intense. That is the best way to describe the entire workshop and everything that transpired that day. So intense that by the time I got back to the dorm room I was carrying it all in my shoulders and it was gradually working itself up into my head. So I sat down with Kim and had a glass of wine. Then I went to Liz's room to tell her about the day as she got dressed for dinner. I rounded up a couple of Advil then she and I along with Kelly Rae and her mother headed into Port Townsend for dinner with some other truly amazing ladies including Elizabeth (BluePoppy), Misty Mawn, and Judy Wise. All I have to say is intense day + carrying it all in your shoulders + major headache + glass of wine + 2 Advil + empty stomach do not add up well. During dinner I got so sick. I ordered this lovely food and ate maybe 2 bites if that. I went to the bathroom a couple of times to put a few damp paper towels on the back of my neck but that didn't work. Kelly Rae's mom offered to drive me back to the dorms and at first I declined her offer because I just didn't want to miss out on anything, especially not dinner with these amazing women. But about 10 seconds later I took her up on her offer because I knew there was no way I was going to make it through the rest of the evening and as much as I hated going back to the dorms and going to bed at 7:00 I knew if I didn't the next day would suck.
As intense as this day was for me it was also amazing. It was good for me to face and feel the discomfort. It was good for me to hear my anger towards myself in my own writing. It was good for me to cry. It was good for me to sleep it off.
If you ever get a chance to work with Susan Wooldridge please do so. Don't let my intense experience scare you away. Like I said a lot of that was shit I brought with me that needed to be dealt with. I had some fears going into this workshop. I have admired Susan for so long that I was afraid we wouldn't connect...but we did. My words mean so much to me but I don't feel confident in my writing abilities so I was afraid I'd get there, hear someone else's writing, and think mine was complete shit. Let me tell you, Susan has this way of making each and every person feel like they are special. When she is focused on you she is totally focused on you. That's how she is with everyone so everyone feels seen and heard and valued and there are no feelings of envy or invisibility (two issues I struggle with a lot.) Every person in the class wrote truly amazing, beautiful work and you could appreciate it because it came from the depths. And each and every piece written was unique and different because it came from the person, not some formula or prompt, and each person is unique and different. To me it was just amazing the way each of us wrote from this deeply beautiful personal place and you could honor each person's words because you knew within those words was that person's truth at that moment.
One last thing: even though we circled up together at the beginning of the class Susan didn't have us introduce ourselves. Instead before she read each person's writing she would begin by saying, "This is ____." Then, she would read the piece and once she was finished she would again say, "This is _______." In other words she introduced us through our words and that was so amazing because words written from the heart, the soul, the gut are a very intimate piece of ourselves. How often do you introduce yourself to someone or have someone introduce themselves to you with that level of intimacy and honesty and beauty. It is a very intimate way to meet someone. You get right past the bullshit (what do you do, where do you live) into the real stuff and that is both pretty cool and a little scary...but definitely worth the risk because you really get to see someone...and they get to really see you...and so often we miss one another...so often we don't really see each other.
