Friday, June 16, 2017

Workshopping Life


My first morning in the charming town of Princeton, NJ, I got lost.
I don’t mean driving around the block three times to get my bearings lost. I’m talking driving what I thought was around the block and ending up going over a bridge heading toward Trenton lost. Twice. 
Eventually, I found my way and my destination.
On day two of the writers’ workshop in Princeton, I lost an earring. On the third day, I spied it in the chapel under a pew.
That afternoon, I lost my phone - my external left brain. Panicked, I got up early the next day to retrace my steps from the day before. My phone was in the first place I looked.
I made dear new friends, listened to stories that begged to be books, learned from experience and imagination, and in the process, I lost a few more things: 
Like fear of asking the dumb question that everyone says doesn’t exist;
and fear of publishing (apparently, that is a thing and I’m not weird);
and fear of finding that my particular stars really are out of reach.
We discussed the importance of intentionality in our work[1], of understanding our motives[2], and of stopping not doing what we needed to do[3] 
There were stories in the music[4] and poetry in the art[5] and kinship in the people by whose side I learned.
I lost a lot last week in Princeton, NJ, and I’m grateful. In the process, I also found my way.
And eventually, even if I end up crossing that bridge another fifty times, I’ll find my destination.



[1] Diana Butler Bass
[2] Jonathan Merritt
[3] Anne Lamott
[4] Andrew Peterson
[5] Makato Fujimora

No comments:

Post a Comment