Still Following the Bee: Sweet Sanctuary December 3, 2016Posted by wimynspeak in General, Workshops.
Tags: collage, creativity, Inspiration, intuition, magick, manifest desires, vision, women, writing
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Still Following the Bee: Sweet Sanctuary
Intuitive COLLAGE Workshop for Women
Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Ave, Sarasota
Saturday, December 17, from 2:00-5:00PM
You gather in the Sweet Sanctuary of the winter hive, you and your sisters, preparing yourselves for the eagerly awaited descent into the dark of the longest night, the night of visions, a time when you can see what is invisible in the light. You hum and dance your way into readiness, savoring the buzz of excitement that permeates the hive and fills you with gratitude for the present moment of communion and the deep desire that is the magick that creates what comes next…
Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process as well as simple creative writing prompts to enter our Sweet Sanctuary and ready ourselves for the descent into the longest night of clearest vision.
Open Pricing * Please pay generously according to your means.
Advance registration is required. Let me know if you plan to attend.
The Hive of HERstory: Still Following the Bee November 29, 2015Posted by wimynspeak in General, Workshops.
Tags: ancient wisdom, collage, collage workshop, communal, communal vision, Creative Writing, creativity, gratitude, hive, Inspiration, intuition, map of life, memory, mentors, personal vision, sisters, vision, wisdom, women, world vision
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Intuitive collage workshop for women
She was grateful for the passing of years, the accumulation of memories, some happy, some sad; all points on the map of her life. She remembered now her anointing, painful at the time: the buzz, the sting, then . . . oh, the joy when she had been chosen to follow the sweet path of wisdom. They had been her mentors, then, her sisters, joined in a common cause. She saw them rarely these days, but their communal vision still inspired her to follow their ancient wisdom, to keep her vision true . . .
Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process and simple writing prompts to reclaim our sistership with the bees and fire up our vision for ourselves, our loved ones, and our world.
Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota
Saturday, December 12, from 2:00-5:00PM
Open Pricing * Please pay as generously and joyfully as possible, according to your means.
Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can attend.
The Pool May 31, 2015Posted by wimynspeak in Bee Write!, General.
Tags: apathy, blindly following, breath, breathe, call, darkness, emotion, endless possibilities, fearful, fly, follow, frightening, gruesome, hawk, images, journey, judgment, love, mirror, pool, sign, silence, sound, stay, stillness, trust, vision, wait, whisper, witness, woman, wordless place
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She heard the hawk’s piercing call and felt as if it was especially for her. She had sat so still for so long, waiting, waiting for a sign, a cry that would beckon her. She opened her eyes now and scanned the skies. There it was, coming out of the trees and heading her way. Silent now, it circled overhead, tracing a spiral path that moved lower and lower with each ever-tightening circle, until it was just above her and then, unbelievably, perched on her shoulder.
“Breathe!” the hawk whispered in her ear, and only then did she realize she was holding her breath. She took a great gulp of air and let it out slowly as the hawk instructed, relaxing her muscles as she did so. “That’s better,” the hawk said, settling comfortably onto her perch. “Keep breathing and listen.”
At first all she could hear was her own breath as it escaped in soft sighs. Then, as her stillness and listening deepened, she could also hear the fainter intake of air through her nose and its movement into her lungs. Hold. Then the sigh of release. When she had become fully attuned to her own breath, she realized she could also hear the hawk’s breath as well as its strong heartbeat next to her ear.
They sat like this for a long time, breathing, listening, deepening. As they sat, the sun arced across the sky, creating moving shadows, that appeared then disappeared, as if in a choreographed dance, but the woman and the hawk saw none of this. When the sun had fallen well below the horizon and the sky had taken off its flashy pinks and purples and donned its black velvet cloak, the hawk whispered once again in her ear, “It is time.”
The woman did not know what this meant, but as the hawk took off, she followed it. She had no idea where they were going, and could not see the path, but the hawk flew in front of her, leaving behind only a trace of sound for her to track in the deep, deep dark. Somehow, even in this darkest of dark places, the woman’s feet managed to miss the loose stones and rambling roots that might have tripped her up.
Someone else’s beliefs might have kept her from taking this journey at all, but the woman was ready to go all out for what she knew would be the richest of treasures, if only she persisted. Another ripple of sound caressed her ear and she turned toward the left, following it blindly, never once doubting the hawk’s purpose for calling her — though she had no idea what that purpose might be. All would be revealed.
At last she heard the hawk come to rest and she stopped a few paces away. Standing still, she could allow her eyes to adjust to the dark. At first she could see nothing but trees so close around her, then the path, the hawk, and the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Beyond the hawk stood a large flat rock upon which a narrow stream of water trickled, glistening in the rising sun and filling a pool at the great rock’s base.
The woman approached the pool and saw that it was clear, like glass. Not a ripple marred its smooth surface. She bent over the pool and saw her own familiar face, but watched in horror as the image appeared to be engulfed in flames, melting into the pool and leaving nothing of itself — of her — behind. The woman took a shocked breath and would have moved away from this frightening vision, but there was the hawk again, on her shoulder, whispering, “Stay!”
And so she did.
She forced herself to keep her eyes open as one gruesome, graphic image after another was illuminated in the pool. After each, the hawk reminded her to breathe, until finally she was able to witness the devastation without becoming tense, without forgetting to breathe; indeed, without judgment or emotion. She had always thought that the opposite of emotional response was apathy, but realized now that apathy itself was an emotion. What she was experiencing went beyond emotions, a wordless place of endless possibilities that, within the confines of a limited human vocabulary, could only be called Love.