This past Saturday, eight writers and artists gathered in and out of my screened in porch and dining room at 26 Split Rock Cove to focus on paying attention – the act of noticing and exploring what intrigues, arrests, interests each of us on a day to day basis – to our memories, our senses, our fascinations, and our surroundings. Writing teacher and coach, Kathrin Seitz, began the morning with a poem by Mary Oliver.

 

 

 

Invitation

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles …

Now we were centered, and present.  And with this invitation we began to write.

Through a series of prompts … the first an exercise in recalling the central facts of our early lives named through objects and rituals from our childhoods; the second, about what had already come across our consciousness that morning, what we had noticed on our way to the workshop – the usual and the unusual, we wrote facts, lists, feelings, some barely remembered objects and places.  We read a poem by Mark Doty and noticed his brilliant description of a display of mackerel in a grocery store that took him into exuberant and ecstatic language which he could not have felt without the deep and deeper writing about why these mackerel had arrested his attention.

We began to hone in on our senses, becoming more aware of ourselves, the space we take up in our environment, and the thoughts that inhabit our minds.  Each writer had an opportunity to read their work several times throughout the day and deep discussion grew from what was noticed and what was passed by.  We discussed tone, rhythm, authenticity.  We developed empathy for each other’s lives.

We became aware of how the writer and poet in each of us gathers material in the present, weaves material from the past, and forms a long slow fascination with our world.

This prompted the group to get up and moving, venturing out into the landscape for a slow walk and lengthy observations around the Split Rock Cove properties.

We broke bread together, and after lunch, separated for a lengthy writing time to pull all of our pieces together.  We shared a glass of wine or lemonade, a slice of melon, a piece of pastry and marveled at each other’s experiences, our writing styles, our histories, and our joys and sadness. We celebrated with a final reading and a toast to one another.

I found my way into a new poem about the renewed possibility of each morning which I had no idea I was thinking about.  On further thinking it was exactly what I had been experiencing but had not been paying close attention.

With all the distractions of politics and elections, the pandemic, our national racial upheaval, the goal was to find another space in which to see what more is in our field of vision, and what we can be said about it that brings grounding and peace into our lives. I think the result was a common sense of humanity – both joy and pain – that helped us feel supported.  This was a day of slowly paying attention, one that I hope will lead to many more.