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Goddess Journey:Kwan Yin February 12, 2017

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logoGoddess Journey: Kwan Yin

COLLAGE Workshop for Women

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, February 18, from 2:00-5:00PM

Pink petals rain down on a vibrant landscape, where all those assembled turn their faces skyward and allow themselves to be washed in the beauty and magick of the moment. Neighbor smiles upon neighbor, and it is understood without words that this day, at least, all will be nourished, all blessed. Voices, raised in a song of gratitude, merge with a gentle wind whispering its benediction and the sweet name of compassion: Kwan Yin … Kwan Yin … Kwan Yin …

Come join us in the hive as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple creative writing prompts, to call our own inner Kwan Yin of compassion to blossom, nurturing us, our world, and our creative process.

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously and joy-fully, according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can attend. Hope to see you there!

Still Following the Bee: Sweet Sanctuary December 3, 2016

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LogoStill 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.

Still Following the Bee: Great Hive of BEEing November 6, 2016

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LogoStill Following the Bee: Great Hive of BEEing

Intuitive COLLAGE Workshop for Women

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, November 19, from 2:00-5:00PM

You close your eyes and listen to the still aloneness that seems to envelop you like a soft, warm blanket. Your body quiets and you imagine yourself entering the great hall of the great queen, creative sovereign of this sacred realm. She has summoned you, and you honor her with your presence. When you open your eyes, you find that you are not alone after all, for the great hall is filled to capacity and you are caught in the crush of all that is supportive and wondrous. The queen offers her communion, and all present in the Great Hive of BEEing accept her gift with gracious gratitude …

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process as well as simple creative writing prompts to enter the Great Hive of BEEing and enjoy the communion of our inner queen, calling us to BEE.

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can join us!

Still Following the Bee: The HeArt of the Hive July 31, 2016

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Honeycomb Moon

Still Following the Bee: The HeArt of the Hive

Intuitive COLLAGE Workshop for Women

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, August 13, from 2:00-5:00PM

You have followed the path spiraling into the dark center and now you sit and wait. All around you are the quiet whispers and hums of your sisters coming and going, the magickal music of life. You feel a sweet vibration as it rises through your core, settling around your HeArt, where it emanates a golden light. The honeyed light grows and you are bathed in the realization that the journey to the center has indeed brought you to The HeArt of the Hive, the HeArt of generosity, a HeArt in loving communion with itself.

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process and simple creative writing prompts to enter into The HeArt of the Hive, where our generosity thrives and love is the sweet honey we share with ourselves.

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can join us!

Still Following the Bee: It’s All About the Honey February 6, 2016

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LogoIntuitive COLLAGE Workshop for Women

Inside the great buzzing hive of you is hidden a magickal treasure, golden and sweet and made to be savored: the honeyed elixir of creative passion. Delectable and tempting, unchecked creativity overflows the hive, seeping out into a world that craves what you have to offer, what you generously and joy-fully share. To manifest this sweet abundance, you have called on every talent and skill you possess, and some you didn’t even know you had. When asked for your secret, you flutter your wings and tell all who will listen: It’s all about the honey!

Come join us in the hive as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple creative writing prompts, to find the golden treasure within that sweetens our world and leaves us overflowing, abuzzzzz with creativity!

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, February 20, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Please let me know if you can join us!

The Hive of HERstory: Chalice of Fire October 3, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Chalice of Fire

Intuitive collage workshop for women

Saturday, October 17

She has been gone a long time. But one day she finds her way back, back to the sacred grove and the Great Grandmother Tree. She had spent a lot of time here as a young girl, creating magick and allowing her imagination to run free. She remembers the last time she was here, remembers leaving the cup. She closes her eyes and sees it clearly, a beautiful silver chalice, sitting on an ancient tree stump, and when she opens them, there it is, right where she left it. She reaches for it and it bursts into flames, engulfing her in the fire of creativity, reigniting the magick . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process and simple writing prompts to make our way back to the sacred grove of imagination where our own Chalice of Fire still burns.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, October 17, 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.

Grey Cloud August 2, 2015

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This grey cloud that seems to follow me turns out to be laden with gifts. At first glance, they are not apparent, but when one is followed by a dark cloud as long as I have been, one tends to look for deeper messages, if only to avoid the tedium.

So today, when the new neighbors show up uninvited, and me with no tea or biscuits to offer them (lack being part of the grey tedium of “not enough”), I grasp at the gift that dangles before me and venture to announce that I never serve real food in my home, only the imaginary kind, which, I tell them, is the best kind. I paint a picture of magical tea parties that are so much better and more filling and satisfying than what they might call the real thing.

I bring out the best china, meaning the pieces that are not so badly chipped, and pretend to steep the tea and mime serving the cakes and dainty little sandwiches, all the while weaving a story of fairies and wood nymphs, and unicorns so that even though it is only a made-up story, they all laugh and play along. When they finally leave, they are biting and licking their lips, searching for the lingering sweet taste of a magical afternoon.

Later, as the night grows dark and the grey cloud melts into a deep velvet sky, I close my eyes and imagine the tea and biscuits settling in my stomach. The rumbles inside me dissipate until the only sound I hear is distant thunder. Even with my eyes closed, and despite the clouds, I can tell the moon is full and shining through the open window, illuminating the dishes on the table and crumbs of magical food fallen to the floor that I have yet to clear away.

I think of a dog I have always wanted since I was a child: medium size, black, with a wise and kind face that evokes both curiosity and stability. She is wearing a lovely jeweled collar and I call her to me by clicking my tongue and offering her a bite of sandwich. I motion to her that it is okay if she wants to lick up any crumbs she finds on the floor. We spend the next hour cleaning up my little room together and when I finally open my eyes, I can still picture the palace that fits within these four grey walls; still feel the dog’s slippery tongue on my hand.

I read, one time, about a village in Japan where they used to sacrifice a black dog to call in the black rain clouds. I have done the opposite. I have used my dark cloud to call in my black dog. No worries. I am well enough to know this is all happening in my imagination; hungry enough to know that, for now, it is sufficient.

The dog comes to me again as soon as I close my eyes. Once again the rumbling in my belly becomes the portent of an approaching storm and I can imagine the dog being caught in it, so I whistle to call her to me and she comes right away. I am lying now on a mat on the floor and the dog lies down next to me. Her furry warmth stops my shivering and I feel safe next to her.

But I do not sleep right away. I have always loved storms and wait with anticipation as the rumbles grow louder, which, of course, they do. I think about my neighbors and our tea party and wonder if they are still savoring the sweetness of our communion, as I am. Drowsily, I lay one hand on the dog’s head and for a moment consider what to name her, for in all the years of wishing and hoping for such a companion, I have not done so. And then I realize that this is not my task to do. The dog has a name and it is for her to reveal it to me when she is ready. I fall asleep, finally, content in this realization.

When I awake, though, the dog is gone, the sky still dark and rumbling, and I feel my hunger in a way I hadn’t before. I put an imaginary pot of oatmeal on the stove and while it simmers I stand at the window looking out on what my mother used to call a “toad-y” kind of day. The grey cloud still hovers over my little cottage, but the rest of the sky is an odd green hue that brings forth visions of nauseous sea voyages and the bumpy backs of the great bullfrogs by the pond.

I am reminded of a long-ago day just like today. I am getting ready for school and the smell of oatmeal with cinnamon fills my nostrils. My mother loved days like this — overly wet days that would call forth the tree frogs to set up a chorus and sing to me on the way to school, my belly full of warm oatmeal, my imagination fueled by the grey clouds, a loyal black dog at my heels.

Buttery Trough August 3, 2014

Posted by wimynspeak in General, The Write Path.
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When her thoughts were driven like melted butter to the trough that was perpendicular to her ideas, the malpractice , non-practice, forgotten practice of no practice was vanquished. Here, it was impossible not to move forward. Here, her imagination opened wide to allow every errant image to have its place in the buttery trough. When stirred with a bit of inspiration and a pinch of dogged determination, she realized there was nothing she could not do, nothing she had to do. There was only her choice – what she chose to do.

And at this moment, she chose to take a sip from the green mug at her elbow: lemon-ginger tea, allowed to steep until the lemon puckered her mouth and the ginger stung her tongue. That was one moment.

The next moment she chose to pick up her pen, the blue one this time, though she found it less comfortable in her hand. Still, the ideas flowed, so her hand cooperated and thoughts became words that spaced themselves neatly in rows across the page. More moments completed.

Sliding around in the buttery trough, she found she could check off moment after moment after moment, like endless items on an infinite to-do list, but there was no effort, no exertion, only the slippery exhilaration of choosing. There really was nothing to do . . . and anything and everything to do. Out here, past the shoulds and musts, there was freedom.

 

Collage for Writing: The Write Path August 2, 2014

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logoCollage for Writing: The Write Path

A special COLLAGE and writing Workshop for Women

Saturday, August 16, from 2:00-5:00PM

The woman came upon a path that led her into a dark forest, which was alive and teeming with activity. Here was a big black bear telling a story to a rambunctious group of young red foxes. There in the thicket was a gentle deer singing softly to her best friend, a long-eared rabbit; and up in the tallest tall tree an old owl was deep in conversation with a large redheaded woodpecker. Just ahead, the woman could see the end of the path, where the dark woods opened into a clearing and there in the moonlight sat The Storyteller, beckoning . . .

Whether you want to write or just want a way for more deeply understanding the messages in your collages, come join us as we explore the Write Path of imagination and discover our inner storytellers.

No collage or writing experience necessary. All materials provided.

Open Pricing *   Thank you for paying generously, according to your heart and means.

Advance registration is required. Please let me know if you can join us: honeycombmoon@gmail.com

If you are on Facebook, check out this Collage Workshop Event on the Honeycomb Moon page. (And you might “Like” the page while you are there, too 🙂 )  Thanks!

Location: Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Womb-en: To Be En-wombed July 1, 2014

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In the center is womb-en:

reborn,

arising from the salty waters

of her own womb,

the ocean of life

within all womb-en.

 

The stories,

written while yet asleep,

fall away and become

en-wombed in the depths,

gestated,

nurtured,

brought to maturity

and finally released,

powerfully birthed in a flow of

blood and water,

milk and honey,

a sweeter life than, dreaming,

dreamed possible.

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