Monday Musings

I was looking at Van Gough's painting of his room, and eyeing the contents carefully: his self-portrait, the hand towel hanging from the wall, the woven seat chairs, the bare floors.  Any room, really, and easily translatable today.  So I grabbed my cell phone, turned around, still in my chair, and took some photos of "my" room/guest room/office.  Lucy is still buried in that mess of blankets.  She sleeps in, very late, often nine or ten in the morning, luxuriating in the warmth of hours of body heat that have radiated into the covers.

Today's morning is bright and blue and crisp outside, in great contrast to last night when a storm blew in.  It prevented viewing the blood red moon and eclipse, but I knew there would be fantastic photos of it this morning, and indeed there are.  I've never been good at photographing the night sky.  I promise myself that one day I will learn how to do this.  Who knows?

I was sent a poem this morning that I initially hesitated to read: Women Who Workshop.  As it turns out, I enjoyed the poem very much.  My reluctance to read it stems from my weariness of workshops geared to self-exploration and improvement, often for women.  Not that I haven't benefited from these offerings in the past, but I have it up to my eyeballs at this juncture.  At my age, I figure, rightly or wrongly, what I have is what I get, and it doesn't aid in my day-to-day life to engage in day-long lessons in a group structure.  I realized, though, after reading the poem, that there can be great benefit and psychological/emotional leaps forward from doing this kind of work, and I should not belittle it.  Someday I might even engage again.

Lifelong learning is a good thing.  These days I prefer it to take the form of photography classes or memoir writing groups.  Those are plenty self-exploratory without the framework of self-improvement.  So, anyway, on to the poem, and happy Martin Luther King, Jr. day to you all.

 

Women Who Workshop 

 

A scarf from India

A top that's Loose around the Middle

Very, very, very Sensible Shoes

And an Unceasingly Kind expression

(The uniform of individuality).

 

You, the Bright-Eyed.

You, the Generous volunteer.

You, still working out That Stuff with your dad.

 

In hotel ballrooms and

Church basements and

Yoga studios and

Campgrounds and

Korean spas and

Montana ranches, Bahamian Beaches and the

Herbalist's office

 

You are becoming.

It's so becoming.

You, becoming.

 

And you've learned to

Bring a sweater and a

Thermos of hot water and

Lots of extra tissues.

 

You have stood in a circle

You have lain prostrate

Your bookshelf groans with

Helping Insightful Books and

Your Journals burst with line

After line

Documenting

Your becoming.

You're becoming.

You are becoming.

 

Sensual

Intellectual

Hard-headed

Tender-hearted

(so tender-hearted)

With your Full-Moon Necklace and your

Chakra-Balancing Necklace and the

Beautiful Gold Ring that you

Hand-forged in that Post-Divorce Workshop

Out of the engagement ring from your First Marriage and the

Wedding band from your Second

 

Now you marry only yourself.

Standing before your Altar

You promise to

Love

Honor and

Cherish

Yourself

From this day forward.

 

You recognize that some might call it an

Indulgence

To spend time and money on

The Issues That Challenge You.

But those people can screw off (compassionately)

Because the Rush of

Self-realization when you finally put That Betrayal behind you

The poem you wrote about your daughter that

Still makes you cry

(And OK, fine - that delirious eight-day affair with that Yoga Guy -

Sweet Heaven he was gorgeous - and so bendy - )

Cannot be matched by anything that can be

Found inside your own condo.

 

You have found freedom.

You have healed your Inner Child and

Embraced your Inner Queen.

You are even developing a side-long glance

Relationship with the word "Crone."

 

You are curious - becoming - laughing - becoming - stretching -

Because as the wise woman said If You Stop Stretching You Die - sharing -

Because that's what Heaven's Children do -

Rejoicing in your growing awareness that no Workshop Intensive

In the world is better than your own becoming

Coming to be.

 

© 2011 Samantha Bennett