Two years ago I lived on Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, soaking in the
creative and peaceful energy that abounds. I came for a semi-annual
writers retreat sponsored by A Room of Her Own Foundation, AROHO. I
walked to my own pace, moved to my own rhythm, broke from what I must
and should do, and for seven days I lived, as much as possible, the life
of an artist, a writer. I learned that writing is not only producing
words on a page. Writing is allowing my mind to be free to think, to
let the unconscious bubble through to consciousness, without the filter
of the day to day rhythm imposed on me in suburbia. I talked with women
who wrote poetry and novels and essays and memoir and creative
non-fiction and short stories and chapbooks and published books and
unpublished books. I listened as well to their words, to what was under
their words, to what surrounded their words. To what encapsulated us
all, containing us together, enriching us. And on the wind, in the sky,
in the earth I saw evidence of connection. Unspoken often, at other
times understood as serendipitous. We spoke of our connections. And in
the speaking, I received a room of my own, a room within my soul that
is engraved, writer. In the summer of 2013 I am excited to return to polish up that engraving.
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