From standing in a field to walking down a hall

The Vashonistas met for five days last week at Lavender Hill Farm on Vashon Island, across the bay from Seattle.

We met the first time for a weekend four years ago, when we were all bloggers. Now we've expanded our time together from two nights to five, bonding further each time we gather. This year, for the second time, we formed a writing workshop, guided by Deb, who is one of us and also a facilitator for the AWA (Amherst Writers and Artists), a protocol for writing based on prompts - phrases, poetry or evocative objects.

This year we added a new activity: kayaking!

In our writing, each of us had some kind of insight during our workshop. For me, the change in my life from last year is represented by a comparison of last year's writing imagery with this year's.

Last year, I saw myself standing in a field, my gifts at my feet, waiting for whatever comes from the Universe telling me what I should do, how I should serve. Since I wrote that piece, I've become involved in working with refugees - an outcome I would never have imagined.

This year, the image in my writing is in walking down a long hall, lined with closed doors. Each door can be opened. Each represents a choice I can make - or not - for my life. And we all know what's at the end of the hall.

That's what happens in these writing workshops. We write because "The person writing with pen to paper knows more than the person sitting in the chair." What comes out during these writes is sometimes quite surprising. 

Next Tuesday I leave for Greece again. This time I'll be at Oinofyta refugee camp for two weeks rather than just six days. Part of the time I'll be setting up their accounting system. For the rest of the time, I have no idea whatever. It might depend on what door I open.

I'm curious about which door it might be.